


A Conversation

by 50251sid



Category: The Borgias, The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gun Violence, Marriage Proposal, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Museums, Organized Crime, Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 33
Words: 71,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50251sid/pseuds/50251sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dialogue between Cesare and Lucrezia that stems from the author's flight of fancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dialogue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Namarea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarea/gifts).



> For my dear Namarea, with love and gratitude

Do you like being a prostitute?

_I like being with you._

Do you tell all your clients that?

_I’m telling **you** that._

Am I special to you? Do you like me specially?

_I surely do. I’m always glad to see you._

Would you like it if I came to see you more often?

_That would make me very happy.  
_

Why do you have to do this? This life?

_It’s what I do._

But you’re so beautiful. So smart. Surely there is something else you could do.

_Maybe. I never tried. My mom did it and that’s what she taught me to do._

What kind of mother lets her daughter grow up to be a…?

_Don’t say bad things about my mom! She did the best she could for me. She didn’t have an easy time. I was glad when I got old enough to help her out a bit. It’s not a bad life. I met you, didn’t I?_

What if I were the only man in your life?

_Oh, I wish you could be, but I have to earn a living._

I’ll marry you. Take you away from this.

_Really? You would marry me? Me?_

How long have you known me? Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?

_Oh, stop! You’ll make me cry._

Don’t cry! But I should ask you this. Would you marry me?

_I never thought about it, but I suppose if I were to ever marry anyone, I would have wanted it to be you._

Are you saying you love me?

_I don’t really know what love is. I’m saying that you’re special to me._

Could you love me?

_Is that important?_

Yes! It makes all the difference.

_Well, then, yes. I think I could love you._

Live with me? Only me? Trust me to take care of you?

_Oh, now you’re asking tough questions. You have to understand that I’ve only ever been able to rely on myself._

Well, I guess so. Seeing as how your own mother…

_She did what she had to do. No sense whining about it._

What about your father?

_What about him? I don’t even know who he is. Neither did mom._

Oh my God! You poor kid. It’s not fair. I grew up a trust fund baby and you grew up nobody’s baby.

_You play the hand you’re dealt. That’s life. I don’t mind._

Well, I mind. I mind a lot. There’s so much I see in you. So much beauty and intelligence and passion.

_You like the passion, don’t you?_

Yeah, I admit, I like you in bed. That’s what first got my attention. But what kept me coming back is the rest of it.

_Like what?_

You’re smart. You didn’t have a chance for an education, yet you are the best rounded person I’ve ever met.

_Rounded like my boobs?_

Come on. I’m serious. I was going to say that, in spite of your background, you have class.

_Yeah. I have couth out the blowhole._

Stop. Stop being deliberately vulgar. That isn’t you. Stop trivializing what I’m trying to say.

_Honey, I’m a cynic. A “glass half-empty” person. It gets me through. Have you any idea how many men have told me they loved me? Zillions._

Have you any idea how many women I’ve told “I love you?” Just one.

_Look, I don’t want to sound like I’m whining, but please keep in mind that not everyone is like you. A gentleman. I have to be tough to protect myself._

Let me protect you. Take care of you.

_How? Just how would you do that?_

Marry me. Live with me. Be mine. Mine alone.

_Until you got tired of me and kicked my ass to the curb._

I wouldn’t do that.

_Typical man. When his dick is hard, he’ll promise anything._

Give me your hand. Here. Feel. I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m offering you a different life.

_A life as precarious as the one I have now. My well-being would depend entirely upon your goodwill. No thanks. I like things just as they are._

You couldn’t possibly like this life.

_Well, I do. I take care of myself. I don’t need anyone. Especially you._

I don’t exactly need you either. But I **want** you. I love you.

_You don’t love me. You’re Ivy League. Wall Street. Cashmere sweaters with polo pony logos on them. Your mother carries a Birkin bag._

This is just what I mean about your having class. How many people even know what a Birkin bag is?

_Okay, so I do, but I couldn’t afford one._

I’ll buy you one. I’ll buy you a dozen.

_I don’t want a Birkin bag._

I know. But I think deep down you want me. I don’t blame you for being skittish. Nothing you’ve ever known has prepared you to believe in love. Or ‘happily ever after.’ Come on. Take a chance with me.

_You really want to marry me? Me? A **whore**?_

Stop saying that. You’ll be my wife.

 _Seriously? You’d marry me and have me live in your life, with your yacht clubs and golf courses, knowing my background?_ _Your family would die. I’d embarrass you to your hoity-toity friends._

No you wouldn’t. You’re a lot more civilized and well-mannered than most of them. You’d make me proud.

_You know, it’s possible that some of the people in your circles might recognize me from...less savory situations._

I have thought of that.

_What would **they** think?_

That you are Mrs. Cesare Borgia.

_You really are serious._

(Sings) ‘Là ci darem la mano,  
Là mi dirai di sì.  
Vedi, non è lontano;  
Partiam, ben mio, da qui.’

_When would you want to get married?_

Now. Immediately. Before you change your mind.  (Sings) 'Andiam!'

_But your family will want a big dog and pony show wedding. They’ll be furious with you. With me._

Where’s my gutsy girl? The one who can take care of herself?

_In my own world, I’m not afraid of anything. But out of my element…_

It will become your own element PDQ.

_What about a pre-nup?_

What about it?

_Do you have one for me to sign?_

No.

_Well, surely your parents will demand a post-nup then._

We’ll deal with them later. For now, we can just get on a plane to the Bahamas and…

_I don’t have a passport._

Oh.

_Sorry. I don’t travel abroad a lot._

Well, no problem. Here’s what. You’re moving in with me right now. Pack a bag for a day or two. We can figure things out tomorrow.

_You really want to marry me?_

Oh, yes.

_It won’t be easy, you know._

Nothing worthwhile ever is. But from this day forward, we live our lives together.

_I still don’t understand. You’re gorgeous. You’re rich. You can have anyone you want. Why me?_

Oh, my Baby. You have no idea how fabulous you are. One of a kind. I wish you could see yourself as I see you.

_Teach me._

I will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian verse from "Don Giovanni" by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart


	2. A Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein occurs a momentous encounter

Cesare just _had_ to get out for awhile, away from the clack of keyboards and the din of voices. Out of his 27 th floor office with its confining walls and venetian blinds banging against the window from the breeze blowing out of the air conditioning vents. He had told his assistant that he would be back in two or three hours.

“Take messages. Don’t call me unless my father asks for me.”

Exiting the building, he yanked his necktie loose and paused for a moment on the street. Stepping out into the July heat was like slamming into a wall. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and slung it over his shoulder, hooked onto his index finger.

So okay. He was outside. But where to go?

Was he hungry? Not really. Did he feel like walking, stretching his legs? Not in this heat.

He hadn’t really thought it out, had he? Nope. All he had thought was to get out. Get out _now_.

Wait a minute. There was the place his mother used to take him to when he was a kid. Always felt good there, uplifted. And it was air conditioned. The Museum of Art. Just two blocks over. It would be cool inside, and quiet. He’d go there.

The temperature was so blistering that, by the time he had walked the baking pavement the short distance to the museum, he was dripping with sweat and his feet burned inside his Ferragamo shoes. He ducked gratefully inside the stately edifice with its grey stone exterior.

The light, after the summer glare on the street, was muted, imparting a feeling of calm refuge. On this weekday afternoon, there were only a scattered few patrons and they were moving slowly, respectfully, as if in a holy place.

 _Dad will be pissed_.

Although he was twenty-five years old and could look his six-feet-two inch father directly in the eye, he felt as if he had cut high school, and a pang of anxiety squeezed his heart. He let out a long, sighing breath and shook his head, his dark brown hair brushing his shoulders.

_Well, Dad will just have to be pissed, then. I need a break._

Determined to spend a relaxing interval at the museum, he began to wander. How long had it been since he had last visited? God, who knew? Before his college and grad school days, surely. But he still remembered the general layout. He would just meander through the Renaissance exhibit and check out the Leonardo drawing that his mother had always admired. Beyond that display were the High Medieval period paintings, at least one or two of which depicted a bosomy Madonna presenting her bare breast to Baby Jesus. That alone would be worth the trip. As an adolescent, in the presence of his refined, erudite mother, he had always pretended nonchalance toward those artworks, but he had become a master at sneaking peeks at the luscious spheres they depicted, glowing, radiant, abundant, just millimeters away from the Child’s eager, open mouth…

_I should be ashamed. Ha, but I’m not!_

He moved on to the room housing the exhibit of primitive art. The fertility figures, so amazing, so unabashedly rendered. Males with exaggerated phalluses and females with gigantic breasts and those plump, cute little carved pussies. Someone’s idealized sexual fantasy made manifest…

He froze, open-mouthed.

She stood bathed in a shaft of sunlight which flooded in from a high window.

She was delicate and tiny, just over five feet tall, wearing flat, metallic sandals and a yellow sundress that came to the middle of her smooth thighs. Her straight blonde hair, loose and unbound, tumbled over her shoulders and high, small breasts. Her skin was ivory, with a soft blush over her rounded cheeks. Her pouting lips were painted with a pink tint, and her long fingernails glowed with a similar hue. She turned her head away from the ebony carving which she had been studying intently and her wide blue eyes met and locked with his.

And then she smiled.

Her lips, soft, luscious and tempting as a ripe peach, curved up, revealing a dimple in each cheek. The smile spread to her eyes, and she turned completely to him, her arms down at her sides, open, unguarded, welcoming.

_Am I seeing things?_

Stunned, on automatic pilot, he approached her.

_What the hell to say to her? ‘Come here often?’ Lame.  Um...’So I guess you like primitive art’…Um…_

“Hi. I’m Lucrezia.”

“Hi. I'm Cesare.”

“I come here a lot, but I haven’t seen you before.”

_If I had said that, it would have sounded stupid, but when she says it, it sounds like poetry._

“I don’t usually come here during the week, but today I needed to take a break.”

“It’s a good place to come when one is feeling stressed, I’ve found. So were you at work?”

“Yeah. At my dad’s investment bank a few blocks away. I was feeling suffocated and just had to get out for awhile.”

“I understand. This is my day off. I like to spend it among beautiful things.”

_You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever…_

“Um…yeah. This is the place to find beauty, all right.”

_Oh, God. Lame!_

“Are you hungry, by any chance, Lucrezia? Maybe I could interest you in some lunch at the museum cafe.”

“Lunch? Oh, I’d like that.”

She shifted her handbag to her other shoulder and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow.

“Lead me away.”

_Again with the killer smile. Jesus Christ!_

 

How could anyone that diminutive turn him into a big, quivering heap of jelly? Her head barely came to his shoulder, yet when she took his arm, his knees nearly buckled.

She now sat across from him at a table covered by a thick, white damask cloth and picked daintily at a scoop of tuna salad set atop a bed of field greens.

“Tell me about your work,” she said, tilting her head to one side and gazing at him with the full power of her amazing, clear blue eyes.

“Not much to say. I work with my father in the investment banking house which he founded before I was born. It was a slam dunk that I would grow up and join him.”

“Do you like it?”

“Well, it’s all I ever expected to do. How about you?”

“Oh, I guess you could say I work in public relations.”

“For whom do you work?”

“I’m self-employed. Freelance.”

“You like people?”

“Some more than others.”

She leaned back in her chair, giving him a good look at her tantalizing calves and small feet, whose suckable toes were painted with a rosy polish.

Entranced, staring at her limbs, he jumped when he heard her phone spring to life, singing its ringtone. She reached into her handbag and scanned the display, frowned and refused the call.

“You were telling me about working at your father’s investment bank.”

“Yeah. Dad is really proud of his banking business. He worked very hard to build it, and he expects me to do the same. I’m kind of playing hooky right now. Some days, I just don’t seem to be able to summon up the dedication Dad expects of me.”

Lucrezia opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by her phone trilling again.

“Excuse me. I’ll just be a moment.”

She turned her head away and Cesare feigned intense interest in his club sandwich.

“Hello. Yes, it’s Nikki. No, Phillip, I have not changed my mind. It’s my day off. Sorry, no can do. Call me tomorrow. Gotta go now. Bye.”

She ended the call and turned back to Cesare.

“Sorry about that. Please tell me more about yourself.”

“You really want to know about me?”

“I surely do.”

“Okay, well…I’m Cesare Borgia, and I’m twenty-five.  Graduated with an MBA from Harvard. Oh, don’t look so impressed. My father greased my way through that. No credit to me at all.”

“And now you work with him. Your father is a pretty powerful force in your life, isn’t he?”

“The biggest.”

“Have you ever wanted to choose your own path? Your own way?”

“I’ve always made my own choices.”

“Oh. I had the impression that your dad has very definite expectations of you.”

“Well, he does, but they’re what I want too.”

“How fortunate for both of you that your ambitions dovetail.”

“I guess so. Never really thought about it.”

Lucrezia’s phone chirped again.

“Sorry. Hello. Oh, hello, Allan. No, it’s my day off. Call me tomorrow, okay? Gotta go. Bye.”

“It’s your turn to tell me about yourself.”

“Me? Oh, not much to tell. I’m Lucrezia Vincent. Just turned twenty. I was born and raised here. Didn’t have a chance to go to college, but I like to read a lot and try to stay well-informed. The Museum is my favorite haunt. I usually spend my day off either here or at the library. My mother now lives in upstate New York and I try to visit her once or twice a year.”

“Lucrezia, I’d really like to get to know you better. Will you have dinner with me?”

“I’m sorry, Cesare. I don’t date.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t maintain much of a social life.”

Lucrezia’s phone sounded several more times.

“No, Steve. It’s my day off.”

“Yes, it’s Nikki. My day off, Edward. Call me tomorrow.”

“I can’t today, Lloyd. Day off.”

 

“You say you don’t have much of a social life, but yet all these men are calling you.”

An appalling thought began to slowly dawn on Cesare.

“Are you a…a…prostitute?”

“Well, yes.”

“Seriously? A prostitute?”

“How genteel you are. Most men would say ‘hooker.’ Or ‘whore.’ Yes, I’m a prostitute. You seem surprised.”

“Well, you’re dressed like a lady. You’re in an art museum.”

“I like opera too.  Especially _'Don Giovanni.'_ What am I supposed to be like?”

“I don’t know.”

“Slutty? Walking the streets? Strung out on crack?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, I am none of those things. At least, I hope I’m not slutty. You’re an investment banker. You should be buttoned down, nose to the grindstone, yet you have shoulder length hair and you are goofing off in the middle of a workday.”

“Yeah. Neither one of us is what we’re supposed to be, huh?”

“Cesare, all I can be is me.”

“But a _prostitute_? Why?”

“You grew up to be what your father wanted you to be. I am what I was expected to be too.”

“What kind of parent expects their kid to become a prostitute?”

“A parent who is also a prostitute.”

“You’re following in your mother’s footsteps?”

“Yep. Just like you’re following in your dad’s.”

“My God, Lucrezia. That’s terrible!”

“Why?”

“You’re so beautiful. So intelligent. There must be a million things you could do other than…that.”

“What makes you think I want to do anything else?”

“Well, I just can’t imagine how any woman, let alone someone like you, could want such a life.”

“I like it, actually. I’m in control. I call my own shots. I can’t imagine myself doing what you do.”

“What I do is …respectable.”

“You’ve never made a deal you didn’t feel right about? Considered less than ethical and above board?”

“Well…”

“I consider myself an honest practitioner. I give fair value for the money I am paid.”

“You sound like a businesswoman.”

“Were you hoping to have sex with me?”

“Sure. Eventually. When the time was right.”

“Well, we can just cut to the chase. No posturing. No courtship dance.”

“But I’d like to court you."

“That’s sweet. But unnecessary. You don’t have to jump through hoops to have what you want from me.”

 _But I want more than just sex_. _Oh my God. I want her. I really do. But she’s a prostitute. Is there etiquette for sex with a prostitute? A protocol? Can I kiss her? How many men has she been with? I don’t want to be just another customer. Just another business deal. She’s so beautiful. Oh, God, I want her so bad. Maybe she’ll do it with me for her own pleasure…_

“I’m not in the habit of paying for the favors of women.”

“I take it, then, that you aren’t interested.”

“I didn’t say that. I _am_ interested. I’d make an exception for you.”

She smiled. _That killer smile…_

“Well, although it’s my day off, I’d make an exception for you.”

“What do you charge? Like, do you have a menu of services and what they cost?”

She laughed lightly.

“What do you like?”

“I guess I’m a pretty normal guy. I like the usual stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Um…the usual stuff. You know…Nothing too kinky.”

“No leather or whips?”

“You do that?”

“No. I do the usual stuff.”

“The Firm maintains an apartment nearby to accommodate out-of-town visitors. We can go there, if you like. It’s private and discreet.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Did I hear you refer to yourself as Nikki on the phone?”

“My ‘stage name.’ I prefer to conceal my true identity.”

“But you told me your real name.”

“I guess you took me by surprise. Caught me unaware.”

“But I didn’t ask your name. You just introduced yourself to me.”

“I did? Oh, surely not!”

“You did. You just said ‘Hi. I’m Lucrezia.’”

“Well, how about that? I don’t know why I would have done such a thing.”

_Because she liked me? Thought me different? A person, and not just a potential customer?_

 

They stopped first at an ATM. In the heat of the afternoon, even the short walk to the guest apartment building was draining. They gratefully pushed through the revolving door and into the cool lobby.

“Hello, Mr. Borgia.” The concierge at the front desk greeted Cesare with a respectful smile.

“Hello, Brian. I’ll be using the apartment for a few hours. Please see to it that I’m not disturbed.”

“Of course, sir.”

Experienced at the art of serving the high-powered Type-As who maintained apartments in his building, Brian, a middle-aged man with smooth-shaven cheeks and an agreeable manner, discreetly ignored Lucrezia until Cesare introduced her to him.

“This is Miss Vincent. She’s a client of the Firm and has come in from out of town for discussions.”

“How do you do, Miss Vincent? If there is anything you require, please ring the front desk at once.”

“Thank you.”

 

In the elevator going up to the apartment, Lucrezia slipped her hand into Cesare’s, taking him completely off guard. He smiled nervously down at her upturned face.

Cesare took out a key and unlocked the door of the guest suite, which was tastefully decorated, with two bedrooms and a kitchenette.

“How often do you put guests up here, Cesare?”

“Once or twice a month, I suppose. How many men do you…service in any given day?”

“Cesare, there is nobody in this room but you and me. I am here just for you. Let’s not think of anything but the two of us.”

She took his suit jacket from him.

“Where is the coat closet?”

When he showed her, she carefully hung the jacket on a padded hanger.

_Is she checking the label? It’s from a top-notch tailor. Will she recognize the name? Will she be impressed?_

She turned away from him and raised her hair from off her neck.

“Undo me, would you?”

Cursing his trembling hands, he lowered the zipper of her sundress, revealing to himself the polished satin of her back. She let the dress slide down her body and stepped out of it, picking it up and draping it prettily over a chair. He drew in a sharp breath

‘My God, you’re so beautiful!”

She lowered her eyelashes and smiled, seemingly flattered.

“I’m afraid I’m not wearing anything particularly alluring today. Since it’s my day off, I wasn’t expecting to be entertaining a gentleman.”

She wore an unadorned white bra and matching panties whose simplicity and modesty aroused him more than any lace or sultry confection ever could.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated. He could think of nothing else to say.

Her body was luscious, delectable. Petite in height and frame, she had graceful lines and her small, exquisite breasts nicely filled her bra cups. Her hips and backside were rounded, womanly and curvy and her belly was smooth and inviting. She reached behind her and started to unhook her bra.

He quickly moved and caught her hands in his.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Not yet. Let me look at you as you are right now.”

He slipped his finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What do you usually do when you make love?”

“This isn’t exactly making love, is it?”

“Maybe this is a bad idea. You’re obviously uncomfortable.”

“I’m not used to sex as a transaction. There’s always been at least a bit of mutual attraction involved.”

“Cesare, I’m making an exception to my ironclad rule about my day off for you. Doesn’t that speak to you of attraction?”

“You still made me pay.”

“I still need to make a living. I can’t afford not to charge.”

“Well, can I kiss you?”

“I’d like you to kiss me.”

He bent and pressed his lips to hers. She slid her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with what seemed like eagerness.

_Is she really kissing me, or is it just part of the service?_

She undid the buttons of his shirt and stroked his chest, cooing in apparent delight.

_Is she really pleased with me or is this just part of the service?_

He followed meekly when she took his hand and led him to the bed.

“Lie down beside me, Cesare.”

He stretched out his long body and caught his breath when she reached to embrace him. Her mouth sought his and she slid her leg between his thighs.

_Does she really want me or is this just part of the service?_

Shy, uneasy but unable to resist, he brought his hand to her breasts and began to caress them.

“You’re so beautiful.”

_God, is that all I can say? She’s going to think I’m a virgin, some dumb little inexperienced kid._

He bent his head down and nuzzled her, gently pulling her bra strap off her shoulder and slipping his fingers inside the loosened cup. Her nipple hardened at his touch.

_Is she really responding to me or is this just part of the service?_

She began to stroke his hair, sighing with what seemed to be enjoyment.

“You are one fine-looking man, Cesare Borgia.”

“You think so?”

“I surely do. I’m so glad we can be together.”

_Is she really glad, or is that just part of the service?_

She tugged at his shirt, indicating her desire for him to remove it. He obliged, and was flattered to see how her eyes sparkled when she looked him over.

“You are as beautiful as any fertility figure in the museum, Cesare.”

“Aw…”

She moved in close and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him, softly at first, but then more insistently.

_Part of the service?_

His mouth devoured hers.

She would not open her lips to admit his tongue.

“No, sorry. We have to be careful about bodily fluids. It’s for your protection too.”

“But I’m clean. Honestly. And I’m sure you are too.”

“I surely am. And I mean to keep it that way.”

“But what about…”

“I always carry condoms.”

“Can we do oral?”

“I will be happy to give you oral if you use a condom.”

“Can I…return the favor?”

“No.”

“I thought you said you give fair value.”

“I do. Let me show you.”

She did.

 

He sat on the side of the bed and, hypnotized, watched her sink to her knees to remove his shoes and socks. She arose and, standing between his thighs, caressed his face with her fingertips, then bent to kiss his eager mouth. Her hair, a waterfall of golden silk, cascaded down over him, over his cheeks and his neck and his shoulders. He stood to let her unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers and lower his underwear. Naked, he reached for her and drew her into his arms, covering her face with kisses. He returned to the bed and pulled her down beside him.

Her hands were magic. Her mouth performed sorcery, even through a condom. She breathed her warm breath onto his belly and thighs and sent sparks bursting into his head. Her creamy skin was satin to his touch. He suckled greedily at her firm, high breasts like the Holy Infant in the medieval paintings he had ogled earlier. When he pushed her white panties down, he gasped in delight at the sight of her pussy, sweet and pretty, with a charming little muff carefully trimmed into a narrow “landing strip” that aroused him beyond all reason.

“Let me lick you. Please. I want to so bad.”

“Cesare, I have a rule about that.”

“You’ve made one exception for me already. Let me do this.”

She made no protest when he lowered his head between her thighs and brought his mouth to her. He grunted with pleasure when he tasted her, and eagerly circled her clitoris with his tongue. She grasped his hair and tugged it, then rocked her pelvis in time with his sucking rhythm. She sobbed out his name. Her body shuddered

_She didn’t, did she? Come? Did she? Or was that an act, just part of the service?_

She was trembling as she pulled him up to lie on top of her, embracing him tightly and wrapping her legs around his.

“Now, Cesare. Now.”

He plunged inside her, crying out at the snug heat of her vault. _Jesus Christ!_ She was a goddess. Her pussy was divine, sublime.

_Did he really make her come? Oh, don’t be stupid. She was practiced at this, at making a man feel like more of a man. And yet, she was shivering. She had broken out into a sweat. Her arms held him to her so tightly. She was moaning and sighing, as eagerly as any woman he had ever…_

Oh God. Oh God!

“I’m coming,” he blurted out, and she whispered, “Yes, yes, my darling. Come. I want you to.”

 

He had lain on top of her afterwards, until his breathing returned to normal. He carefully withdrew from her body and peeled off the condom, wrapping it in a tissue he had gotten from a box on the nightstand. When he stretched out beside her again, she turned to him and snuggled against his body, kissing his bare chest and circling her arms around him.

“You were amazing. A stallion.”

“Did I make you happy?”

“Couldn’t you tell? Did I make _you_ happy?”

“Oh, you did. You did. But I wanted it to be mutual.”

“I know. You’re such a sweet guy.”

_So did she come, or did she just give the impression that she did because she knew that was what he wanted? Just part of the service?_

They lay in bed together, her head resting on his chest, his arms encircling her.

“Did you have anything planned for later today, Lucrezia? Because I’d like it if you’d stay here with me for a bit longer. Unless you have something…”

“No, I’d like to stay here with you.”

“You would?”

“Sure. This apartment is beautiful and comfortable and it’s nice to relax here. And I enjoy your company.”

He grinned, startled.

“You mean it? You like being with me?”

“I surely do. Does that surprise you?”

“I thought you’d want to be on your way.”

“Usually, but not today. It’s my…”

“I know. Your day off”

 

He awoke with a start.

Jesus Christ! What time was it? The room was dark. Outside the window, the sky was dark. He went to sit up and his leg bumped into…what? _Jesus Christ!_ A woman. A woman next to him in bed. Where was he? Who was she?

Oh!

The guest apartment. He was in the Firm’s guest apartment. With Lucrezia. She had stayed with him and fallen asleep beside him in bed. _She had stayed!_

His phone blared indignantly.

“Hello?”

His voice was hoarse with sleep.

“Dad? Um..hi. Yeah. I…um…I decided I needed a break, so I took the afternoon off. Where am I? I’m at the guest apartment. I felt hot and tired, so I went there and had a nap. Actually, I just now woke up. Calm down. I took care of everything that required my attention. Dad, I’m telling you. I handled it all. I was feeling a bit stressed, so…”

“Cesare?” Lucrezia’s soft voice caressed his ear. He put a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“No, Dad. Nobody is here with me. I don’t know what you think you heard.”

Lucrezia got up out of bed, her radiant body glowing in the velvety dark of the room. Involuntarily, Cesare inhaled sharply at the sight of her.

“What, Dad? No, nothing. I’m going home to my apartment now. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Yes, I’m fine. Like I said, I just needed a break. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

He turned to Lucrezia, who was now nearly dressed.

“Hi.”

“Hi right back.”

“Sorry I fell asleep, Lucrezia.”

“Oh, please, don’t be. You looked so sweet lying there. I hope you don’t mind, but I had a nap too.”

“Mind? God, no. You stayed with me…”

“I’ve got to go now. It’s been lovely.”

“Don’t go. Have dinner with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Then let me take you home.”

“Thank you, but no.”

“Please. I can’t stand the thought of you leaving here alone in the dark.”

She laughed lightly, like the sweet chime of tiny silver bells.

“I do it all the time. Really, I’ll be fine.”

He rose from the bed and stood naked before her, raising his hands to cup her face and kiss her.

“I care about you.”

“You’re so sweet. But there’s no need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Just this once, will you let me take care of you?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t want to get used to that. It would spoil me.”

“Lucrezia, I want to spoil you. I want to see you again. Soon. Let me call you.”

“Oh, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why?   You gave your phone number to all those others.”

“They have ‘Nikki’s’ phone number. You know my real name. I need to protect my privacy.”

“From me? Do you think I’m some kind of lunatic who’d...”

“I’ll be at the museum the same day and time next week.”

“Not till then?”

“No. And I’m making a huge exception for you. It’s my…”

“I know. Your day off.”

She smiled. And then she was gone.

 

Cesare had a restless night, reliving the afternoon over and over again. She was so beautiful. So magical. So mysterious. She said she would see him again next week. Could he believe her? Would she be there? Why wouldn’t she let him contact her?

Shortly before dawn, he dropped off into an exhausted sleep. When the alarm went off, he wanted to fling it across the room, but knew he had to arrive at work on time. Especially after disappearing yesterday afternoon.

 

“My assistant said you wanted to see me, Dad.”

“Yes, Cesare. Sit down.”

“Is this about yesterday?”

Rodrigo Borgia impaled his son with a glare.

“The concierge of the guest apartment building told me you brought a young blonde woman there. A Miss Vincent.”

_That motherfucking blabbermouth!_

“How did he happen to tell you that?”

“I called and asked him.”

“You were checking up on me?”

“Well, is it true?”

Cesare stood up and leaned his fists on his father’s huge mahogany desk.

“What if it is? I’m a grown man.”

“Since when does a grown man desert his post to go and get his ashes hauled by some tramp in the middle of a workday?”

“She’s not a tramp. And I didn’t desert my post. I had taken care of everything before I left. I won’t explain myself to you or to anyone. Stay the hell out of my business.”

“When ‘your business’ negatively impacts ‘my business,’ I’ll damn well look into it. Don’t think that because you’re my son, you can just take off whenever you like to do whatever you like.”

“I hardly think that because I decided I needed an afternoon off, I put the Firm in peril.”

“As a senior officer, you should be leading by example. You set a very poor model of behavior for those around you. Sneaking off in the middle of the day for an assignation. Who is she, anyway?”

“No one you know.”

“Well, I hope you used protection.”

“Jesus Christ, Dad! I can conduct my own love life, thank you.”

“Sit down, Cesare. I’m not your enemy. I’m just trying to steer you in the right direction.”

“If this were something I did all the time, I could see you getting upset. But it isn’t.”

“I know that, son. I just don’t want you making a habit of it. Actually, part of me is a little relieved. Sometimes I worry that you’re too serious, too driven. I’m glad to know you do have a libido.”

“Dad…”

 

_I have to quit thinking about her. Concentrate, Cesare. All these damn figures and statistics are just swimming in front of my eyes. I can’t make sense of them. Correction: I don’t **want** to make sense of them. I want to see her again, and take her to bed again. Maybe this time, she’ll even let me…STOP STOP STOP! I have to quit thinking about her. I have to get my mind back on my work. God, she’s so beautiful. _

_I could probably find her if I tried. I could even get a private detective to track her down. But she’d be pissed. Might even refuse to see me again. But to have to wait an entire week…She tells everyone her name is Nikki, but she gave me her real name. Why? Was it an impulse that she later regretted? She turned down all those clients of hers on her day off, yet she went with me. Could she have **wanted** to sleep with me? But she did make me pay her. I’m being stupid. She’s a prostitute. I’m just another john to her. But she obviously guards her day off, yet she went to bed with me. And she stayed with me, even after I fell asleep. She laid in bed with me and slept in my arms. Surely she doesn’t do that with men who are just clients. God, she’s so beautiful! I have to see her again. Have to get her to know me better. A whole week. I’ll die._

Never had time dragged with such leaden feet. The week was a plodding, tedious, burdensome stretch of stultifying meetings filled with the turgid bloviations of Dad’s sycophants trying to one-up each other to impress him. How could Dad stand this shit? He had to see through it, and yet he not only permitted it, he encouraged it.

As bad as the days were, the nights were worse. She came to him in his dreams and smiled enticingly and danced before him in those innocent white panties, beneath which lay the gate to heaven. He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a sophomore in high school, yet here he was, waking up sticky and embarrassed, and so totally unsatisfied.

 

Finally…

 

He nearly tripped running up the steps of the museum and shoved through the revolving door like a Pamplona bull.

Did he look ridiculous as he raced through the Renaissance section? Juvenile, over-eager as he barged past the medieval Madonnas with their bare breasts? Anxious, desperate, as he approached the Primitive Art exhibit?

He pulled up short and froze, open-mouthed.

She stood bathed in a shaft of sunlight which flooded in from a high window.

She turned her head away from the ebony carving which she had been studying intently and her wide blue eyes met and locked with his.

And then she smiled.


	3. Crocodiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein surface dangerous reptiles

What Cesare had not known:

  *          Lucrezia had taken one look at his fine, long body and large green eyes and bow-shaped lips and beautiful, thick dark hair and completely lost her cool, dispassionate, pragmatic head.
  *          Although she did charge him for her services, she asked him for a fraction of her customary fee, and that only to maintain her “prostitute” persona to hide behind.
  *          She did indeed have an orgasm.



 

When she accepted his marriage proposal, he had made just one request of her.

“Contraception is fine with me, but no more of those damn condoms, Lucrezia. I understand you had a need to protect yourself in the past, but not anymore. Now it’s just me.”

“Darling, I’ve thrown them all away. We’ll have no barriers between us.”

“If you want, we can get tested for STDs, but I know I’m clean. You don’t need to worry about me screwing around on you, either. I haven’t gone near another woman since I met you.”

She had smiled then, and her eyes had grown shiny with tears.

“How did I ever get so lucky?”

“Do you love me? Do you?”

“I surely do.”

 

On the plane to Las Vegas, Cesare called his parents and told them he was getting married.

“To the most wonderful woman in the world, Dad. I’m head over heels in love.”

“Is it that blonde you’ve been sneaking into the guest apartment?”

“Not sneaking. I’ve been seeing her for some time now.”

“Did she sign a pre-nup?”

“No.”

“Have you gone crazy? I’ll have our lawyers prepare a post-nup, then.”

“No you won’t. I’m doing this old-school.”

“I won’t have you putting the family fortune within the grasp of a gold digger.”

“She’s not a gold digger. And she’ll only have access to what I myself own. Nothing else.”

“I won’t bail you out when she takes you to the cleaners.”

“I’m getting married. Would it kill you to congratulate me? Can you think of nothing else but your assets?”

“Can you think of nothing else but her ass?”

 

They were married the next day in Las Vegas, at a quickie-wedding chapel, tacky, but nonetheless legal. They exchanged simple platinum wedding bands which they bought from a jewelry store a few doors down from the Marriage License Bureau. Lucrezia refused an engagement ring.

“What the hell kind of gold digger are you?” a bemused Cesare exclaimed.

“A lousy one.”

 

Cesare approached the nightstand and set down a cardboard tray which held two containers of coffee. He bent down and softly kissed his bride’s cheek.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. I brought you a cappuccino.”

Tiny and lost in the king-sized hotel bed, Lucrezia blinked sleepily and slowly sat up.

“You did? How sweet of you, my Prince.”

When she reached for the cup, her eye was caught by the gleam of a narrow but beautifully-crafted platinum wedding band on her left ring finger.

Her lips curved into a smile.

“We’re really married? You really married me?”

He sat down beside her on the bed and kissed her throat and shoulder.

“Yes, we are really married. I cannot believe I convinced you to overcome your fears and take a chance with me.”

“I cannot believe you were willing to marry me, a wh…”

“Stop that. Right now. You are never again to use that word in relation to yourself. You are Mrs. Cesare Borgia. My wife. The woman I love.”

She set down the coffee container on the nightstand and threw her arms around his neck

“I love you too. I really do.”

“For keeps?”

“Yes. For keeps.”

“How about you drink your coffee and then get dressed and we’ll have some breakfast? The hotel has a buffet until ten o’clock. Or, if you prefer, we can go somewhere else.”

“The buffet is fine.”

She reached out and gently brushed his hair away from his face.

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where I am.”

When she threw back the blankets, his eyes widened with pleasure because her short, silk nightgown had ridden up to her waist, revealing her muff.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He pushed her back down on the bed and slid his hand between her ivory thighs.

“I’ll never get enough of you.” His voice was thick with desire.

When he stretched himself on top of her, she embraced him and trailed her long fingernails up and down his back. She felt his hand between their bodies, fumbling with the zipper of his trousers.

“Cesare, darling, let me do that for you.”

 

He called his mother from the hotel.

“I know this seems sudden, Mom, but I’ve been seeing Lucrezia for the better part of a year. I’m crazy about her. I think you’ll love her too. You have a lot in common. She likes paintings and opera and things like that. I met her at the Museum of Art. And Mom, could I ask a favor of you? As a wedding gift, could you give her one of your Birkin bags? I’ll replace it, of course, but I want her to have one that comes from you. To welcome her to the family. You will? Aw, thanks, Mom. You’re the best. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet. The two Mrs. Borgias. What a pair you’ll make.”

 

Lucrezia traded in her cell phone for a new one, with a new number, and had the technician wipe her address files clean.

“Good riddance,” she said, and Cesare grinned and kissed her.

 

“Dearest, I called my mother and told her about our marriage. She’s coming from Watertown to meet you and attend the reception your parents are giving us.”

“How long has it been since you last saw her?”

“I went to visit her at Christmas for a few days.”

“What did you tell her about me?”

“That I love you and that I am the luckiest person on the planet.”

“Did she recognize the family name?”

“Well, yes. It’s a pretty prominent one.”

 

“There she is, Cesare.” Lucrezia waved to a woman approaching the airport luggage carousel.

“Lucrezia must look like her father,” Cesare thought.

Victoria Vincent was a striking woman in her middle years, with a lush, full body and rich chestnut hair. Perhaps five feet five inches tall, she had arresting hazel eyes and a smooth, olive complexion, but her fine-boned face was dominated by her full-lipped mouth, painted with deep red lipstick. Beneath her wool jacket, she wore a black silk sweater and light grey pencil skirt which showed off her opulent curves. The only similarity to her daughter that Cesare could discern was her graceful hands, with long scarlet fingernails.

“Mom, I’m so glad to see you. Did you have a good flight?”

“As good as can be expected, I suppose.”

“This is my husband, Cesare.”

“Hello, Victoria.”

“Oh, call me Vickie. I want us to be a close family.”

_Why? Why bother now?_

Cesare took her suitcase from her.

“We have a car waiting outside.”

 

As the limousine conveyed them back to the city, Vickie admired Lucrezia’s Birkin bag.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Mom? Cesare’s mother gave it to me as a wedding present. It had been hers.”

“So it’s not a new one?”

“It means all the more to me, since she gave me something which she herself had used and loved.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose so. Sentiment is…priceless. Is your engagement ring out being sized for you?”

“I didn’t want one. Cesare wanted to get me a ring, but I told him no.”

“My daughter turned down a diamond?”

“I _married_ the jewel, Mom. My husband is more precious to me than anything in the world.”

Lucrezia smiled at Cesare and squeezed his hand, which rested upon her knee.

Vickie’s lips stretched into a brief smirk.

“Isn’t that sweet?”

 

“So you live downtown?”

Vickie’s eyes traveled the façade of the apartment building from the pavement to the parapet.

“Cesare has been living here for several years and likes it a lot. It’s a great apartment. You’ll see.”

 

“Cesare, would you excuse Lucrezia and me for a bit so we can have some ‘girl talk’?”

Lucrezia escorted her mother to the guest room and set down her suitcase on the bed.

“Come in and shut the door. I’d like to have a talk with you, girl. Alone.”

Vickie gripped her daughter tightly by the arms and shook her.

“Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten every lesson I ever taught you?”

“What?”

“This man—this _rich_ man-- is so infatuated with you that he _marries_ you and look at what you do! Turn down a diamond ring! He could afford to buy you a rock the size of a baseball and you turn it down? His mother gives you one of her old castoff handbags and you’re thrilled with it? He should be buying you a crocodile bag. And shoes to match. You agree to move into his bachelor apartment instead of asking for a house of your own? Girl, I don’t know you! What did you agree to in the pre-nup?”

“There was no pre-nup. Or post-nup.”

“Holy God, Lucrezia, you’ve hit the lottery and you don’t have the brains to realize it.”

“Mom, I love Cesare. He’s wonderful to me.”

“Tell me you at least demanded that he put your name on everything.”

“I didn’t demand anything of him. He had his lawyer take care of that.”

“Well, thank God for small favors. Don’t you realize that when he gets tired of you, he’ll throw you out on your ass and leave you with nothing? You have to start feathering your nest now, while he’s still captivated by the scent of your pussy.”

“Mom, I won’t have you talking to me like that.”

“Look, honey. I grant you he’s as pretty a piece as I’ve ever seen, but please don’t tell me you think you’re in love with him. Where is the good sense I taught you?”

“What you taught me in no way prepared me for real life. I’m feeling my way through this and I’m scared at any moment that the bubble is going to burst.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Lucrezia. That _is_ real life. What will become of you when the bubble does burst? That’s why you have to be smart now. Make hay while the sun shines.”

“I can’t think that way, Mom. I have to trust Cesare.”

“Lucrezia, don’t be an idiot.”

 

The apartment of Rodrigo and Vannozza Borgia was filled with glittering guests in animated conversation. A musician in a dark dinner jacket sat at a brilliantly polished grand piano, playing sophisticated jazz. Waiters carrying trays of canapés or pale champagne in tulip glasses provided unobtrusive and efficient service to guests.

Lucrezia, quietly stunning in a black sheath dress, her hair pulled into a simple topknot, sat alone at a small round table while Cesare went to fetch her a drink. A voice behind her made her turn her head.

“Nikki?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nikki. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else. I am Lucrezia Borgia. Mrs. Cesare Borgia.”

“Come on, Nikki. Quit kidding around. It’s me. Allan.”

“How do you do? But again, I must say that you are mistaken.”

“You’re not Nikki? But you look just like her.”

“I am Mrs. Cesare Borgia.”

“Well, do you have a sister? A twin, maybe?”

“No. Ah, here is my husband now. Cesare, this gentleman has me confused with someone named ‘Nikki.’”

Cesare handed Lucrezia a glass of club soda with lime.

“Hello, Allan. Let me introduce you to my wife. Lucrezia, this is Allan Porter, a friend of the family. Al is an attorney for Pan American Insurance.”

“Hello, Allan. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Best wishes to both of you.”

“Thanks. So you think my wife looks like someone you know?”

Cesare’s voice was clipped, snappish. He stood a good five inches taller than Allan, who took a step backward.

“Well, I did at first, but looking at you now, Lucrezia, I see there is no resemblance whatsoever. My apologies.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Gazing at Allan’s retreating back, Lucrezia slipped her hand into Cesare’s.

“My hero.”

He brought her fingers to his lips.

“My lady.”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen. Friends.” Rodrigo raised his voice above the chatter and called for attention. “Thank you all for coming this afternoon to meet the newest member of the Borgia family, Cesare’s beautiful bride, Lucrezia. Come on over, my dear. Let our friends have a look at you.”

Blushing, Lucrezia joined her father-in-law, who slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead.

“Isn’t she lovely? We’re so happy that our Cesare has found such a loving and devoted wife. Thank you all for making her feel welcome.”

 

“Rod. About your daughter-in-law. My son Allan tells me she looks just like a girl he knew, who seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. A girl named Nikki. She’s a…well, she’s a whore.”

“Wally, that’s a hell of a thing to say to me! Why would you do that?”

“Well, I know Cesare got married kind of out of the blue, and I wondered how much you know about his bride.”

“I know enough to resent your remarks, Wally. That girl is a lady. Cesare met her at the Museum of Art. She’s lovely and intelligent, plans to start school in the fall. She and my wife are very close. I’ll thank you to keep your ugly insinuations to yourself.”

“Whoa, Rod. Sorry. I meant no offense.”

“It didn’t occur to you that I’d be offended by your implications that my daughter-in-law might be a whore? I’d have to say that your son seems a lot more familiar with hookers than my son is.”

 

The rest of the Borgia’s reception went pleasantly. Lucrezia was glad to meet the relatives, friends and business contacts of her husband’s family. She had long ago mastered the art of making small talk and working a room, and these skills served her well on this occasion, enabling her to charm her new acquaintances.

Rodrigo partnered her in a dance, tucking her head under his chin.

“My lord, you’re a little one, aren’t you? Even with those heels you’re wearing. I can see how Cesare fell so hard for you. You are just the sweetest little girl.”

“You know, Dad, I grew up without a father. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am to have you in my life. I’m very grateful that Cesare doesn’t mind sharing you with me.”

Rodrigo’s spine straightened, making him appear even taller, and his face broke into the dazzling grin which his son had inherited.

 

While Lucrezia was dancing with his father, Cesare was following Vickie into an empty guest bedroom at his parent’s apartment.

 “We need to talk, Cesare.”

“About what?”

“Compensation. You married my little girl. Took her away from me.”

“Excuse me? I was of the impression that she was pretty much on her own since she was fourteen years old.”

“Is that what she told you? Well, it’s not true. I was always there for her. Just a phone call away.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see how you could have been much help to her after you moved to upstate New York.”

“Before I left, I made sure she was settled in with a close friend to look after her.”

“A _madam_! You left her in a whorehouse with a _madam_.”

“A friend. Lucrezia called her Aunt Celeste. That’s how close they were. She was well looked after.”

“Did you send her money? Provide for her?”

“I didn’t have to. I had taught her to be self-reliant.”

“You taught her to turn tricks. From the time she was thirteen years old!”

“She wanted to help out with our finances. It didn’t hurt her any. It made her strong. And now she has you to take care of her. I wasn’t so lucky.”

“Vickie, what do you want?”

“Why, just to make sure that my Lucrezia is happy.”

“She is. I know she told you that.”

“I needed to see it for myself. She’s a good girl, worries about her poor mother. She’d be a lot less worried if she knew I was financially secure.”

“Aren’t you?”

“In my former line of work, there are no pension plans.”

“Again I will ask, what do you want?”

“To ease Lucrezia’s mind about me. Surely that’s a notion you can appreciate.”

“What do you propose?”

“A small monthly allowance. Something to keep the wolf from my door. Isn’t it worth it to you to ease the mind of your bride?”

“What’s your idea of ‘small’?”

“Say twenty thousand a month.”

Cesare snorted in disbelief. Vickie, undaunted, pressed on.

“Surely you can afford that. It would buy you and Lucrezia peace of mind, knowing I was able to remain back in New York State, since all my needs were met.”

“You want me to pay you nearly a quarter of a million dollars a year to get lost?”

“Not that at all. To ease Lucrezia’s conscience about my welfare.”

“I won’t give you a dime, lady.”

“I would have thought her peace of mind should be worth any amount to you.”

“What are you living on now?”

“The charity of friends, my dear. And Lucrezia has been sending me money.”

“You abandoned her when she was just a little girl and you have the gall to be bleeding her for cash? Maybe you should heed your own lessons about self-reliance.”

“How can someone as handsome as you are be so cruel? I’m not able to work at my profession any more. It’s a younger woman’s gig. I need assistance to survive. You took my daughter away from me. I deserve compensation. She makes you happy in bed, doesn’t she? Where do you think she learned all those skills? You owe me for that, at least!”

Cesare shook his head in disgust.

“Five”

“What?”

“Five thousand.”

“I don’t know how you would expect me to live on that.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Cesare, you would be condemning me to everlasting poverty. Endless crises. Who knows when I’d have to show up at your door, unable to pay the rent or buy food or pay the utilities?”

“What guarantee would I have that you would get lost and stay lost?”

“If I had enough income, I’d never trouble you again. All I ask is for enough to get by, to live decently.”

“All right. Ten thousand.”

Vickie sighed.

“Is that all your wife’s serenity is worth to you? Well, I guess I’ll have to make do with it.  Provided you pay the income taxes on it.”

“Fine.  I’ll arrange to have funds deposited in your checking account on the first of each month. And, so help me God, if you set foot outside of Watertown, I’ll cut you off without a cent.”

“Why, Cesare, it gets terribly cold there. Surely you wouldn’t object if I spent winters in Florida, would you?”

“As long as you leave Lucrezia and me alone, I don’t care what you do. But make no mistake. I’m not a man you want to fool with. Do _not_ try to yank me around or put the screws to me for more money than I’m offering you.”

“How you wound me, Cesare! I am nothing if not grateful to you. Rest assured that I will return to Watertown and live in quiet retirement, content in the knowledge that my beloved daughter is secure and happy with you.”

“I mean it, Vickie. No contact. Not even a phone call.”

“But what if you have children? Would you deny me the joy…?”

“Even more so then.”

“But what if Lucrezia gets in touch with me?”

“She won’t.”

“I’m still her mother.”

“We’re done here, Vickie. I’ll have my financial manager get in touch with you for your banking information. You’ll have a deposit within twenty-four hours after that. And then I expect silence. Absolutely silence. Do we have an understanding?”

“You’re taking advantage of my unfortunate situation to cut me off from my only child. I have no choice but to agree to your terms.”

“Right.  I’ll give you time to make your goodbyes to my wife, in my presence, and then a car will take you to the airport. I’d be lying if I said I wish you well. I don’t wish you good, I don’t wish you bad. I just wish you gone.”

 

“Mr. Borgia, as your accountant, it’s my job to bring to your attention anything I feel might be unusual or of concern.”

“Yes. And..?”

“Well, there are expenditures from Mrs. Borgia’s accounts…”

“You’ve been poking into my wife’s spending?”

“Not poking, sir. Overseeing.”

“And what have you ‘overseen’?’

“There are monthly deposits in the amount of two thousand five hundred dollars from Mrs. Borgia’s household funds to a checking account based in Watertown, New York. And frequent multiple charges to Mrs. Borgia’s credit card, also from businesses in the Watertown area.”

_That conniving bitch!_

“My wife’s mother.”

“Ah. Then I take it these expenditures are familiar to you.”

“Uh…yes. Yes, of course.”

 

She had cooked him a special dinner that evening, and now sat on the floor at his feet, her head leaning against his knee. He stroked her hair and took a deep breath, dreading the conversation he knew he must have with her.

“Cesare, darling, would you like a glass of wine? Or perhaps something else to drink?”

“No, Baby. Not right now. There’s something we need to talk about.”

“Oh?”

He slipped his finger under her chin and raised her face to gaze into her eyes.

“Honey, I know you’ve been funneling money to your mother every month and also letting her use your credit card for her own purchases.”

“Cesare. How…?”

“My accountant told me.”

She stiffened and drew back from him.

“Do you have people spying on me?”

“No, Baby. Not spying. But I do have people to manage our finances and they report to me when they see things that they have questions about. Honey, why didn’t you tell me you were sending money to Vickie?”

“I was afraid you’d be mad at me. But she’s my mother, darling. I can’t just let her starve.”

“Well, there’s something I haven’t told you. I’ve been sending her ten thousand dollars a month. Forgive me, Baby. I shouldn’t have kept that from you.”

“You’ve been sending her money, and yet she phoned me and cried the poor mouth. Told me her utilities were about to be shut off. She had no food in the house. I believed her. Worried about her. I told her I could send her two thousand dollars a month and she cried and wailed until I agreed to send her twenty five hundred from my household allowance.”

“That money was supposed to be for your own use. To please yourself.”

“You’re so generous to me. I didn’t need anywhere near what you give me.”

“Honey, this has to stop. I provide more than adequately for your mother.”

“I’m so sorry, Cesare. I didn’t know. I had no idea my mother was leeching from you.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d feel bad. Promise me you’ll stop sending her money that I wanted you to spend on yourself.”

“But I really don’t need all that.”

“Then put it in the bank for a nest egg for yourself. And promise me that you won’t hide things from me anymore.”

“I won’t, darling. Please understand. I’m used to dealing with things by myself. It’s hard for me to reach out to anyone else or involve anyone else. But you’re right. I should never have gone behind your back.”

“It bothers me that you were afraid to tell me about this. And it bothers me that I hid my arrangements from you. It was dumb of me.  You were supporting your mother for years.  I should have expected that you would want to continue to do so.  Had we been honest with each other to begin with, your mother would not have been able to play games with us.”

“I’ll never keep anything from you again.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No, darling. Of course not. But where my mother is concerned…she can be so difficult. I didn’t want you to have to be involved with her.”

“Well, I am involved. I’m your husband. You aren’t alone anymore. We’ll see things through together.”


	4. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein are confided shocking secrets

“My mother told me that you and she are planning to go antiquing today.” Cesare spoke from the bed where he lay, watching Lucrezia getting dressed while early morning sunlight glazed the curtainless window of their bedroom.

“I hope you don’t mind being by yourself today, Cesare. Mom and I have been looking forward to this. I love her, Cesare. She’s so kind to me. So accepting.”

“She loves you right back, Baby. She’s happy to have you as a daughter.”

He got up out of bed and pulled her into his embrace.

“Do you like living with me? Do you like your life?”

She touched his lightly-bearded cheek with her fingertips.

“My darling. Every night when you get into bed beside me, I’m thrilled. And every morning when I wake up and find you there, I want to cry for joy. Before I met you, I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I was cool. Dispassionate. In control. But I was empty. Dead inside. You breathed life into me. Made me care. Made me happy.”

She flung her arms around his neck.

“I love you. Cesare.”

He held her close.

“I love you too.”

“Never leave me.”

“I won’t. And I’ll never let go of you.”

A fragile tear ran down her cheek. He caught it on his finger.

“No tears, my Baby. I’ll take them all away. I promise.”

 

Cesare had inherited his father’s green eyes, rangy physique and devastating grin, but his mother’s spirit. Vannozza Borgia had the elegant bearing and dignity of a queen, softened by the warmth and humor that radiated from her deep brown eyes. Perfectly at home in either a Chanel bouclé suit or jeans and flip-flops, she was comfortable in any setting and with any company.

When Cesare let her into his apartment, Vannozza followed the aroma of bacon into the kitchen where Lucrezia stood pouring pancake batter onto an electric griddle. Her face lit up when she saw her mother-in-law.

“Hi, Mom. How about some breakfast before we begin our expedition? Pancakes and bacon.”

“Well, maybe just one or two. I’ve already eaten, but everything smells so good that I can’t resist.”

“Lucrezia makes me pancakes every Saturday, Mom. From scratch. When I married her, I had no idea how well she could cook.”

“You’re spoiling him.” Vannozza smiled and shook her head teasingly.

“I like to spoil Cesare, Mom.”

 

Vannozza raised the privacy screen between the chauffeur and the passenger compartment of the Borgia’s town car and grasped Lucrezia’s hand. The young girl smiled in excited anticipation.

“I’m so glad to be going with you today, Mom.”

“We’ll have fun. I want to show you my favorite places to find antiques. And we can have a nice lunch at a quaint little restaurant in the country.”

“Oh, but I wanted to get back and make lunch for Cesare and you.”

“Sweetie, let’s have this day for the two of us. A girl’s day out.”

“But Cesare…”

“Will be just fine.”

Although Vannozza kept her facial expression pleasant, she inwardly felt uneasy. That Lucrezia adored Cesare was obvious. That she spent every waking moment trying almost frantically to please him was equally apparent. Vannozza sensed an undercurrent of angst in the girl, a dread that she might somehow cause displeasure to her husband. Cesare, as clueless an oaf as most other men, had no idea of the anxiety under which his young wife was laboring. He merely sat back and enjoyed being waited upon like a potentate.

_Lucrezia, peel me a grape._

Vannozza reflected upon her impression of Victoria, whom she had met at the cocktail reception for the newlyweds. Although she would never say so to Lucrezia, she thought her mother calculating, conniving, cold and untrustworthy. What must it have been like to grow up with such a parent? No wonder Lucrezia was so unconvinced of her own self-worth.

“You know,” Vannozza remarked, continuing to hold Lucrezia’s hand, “I can see that you take good care of Cesare. But does he do the same for you?”

“Oh, Mom, I can’t begin to tell you how good to me he is.”

“Lucrezia, I want you to know that, while I love my son, I love you too.”

“Thanks for saying that, Mom. I so much want your approval.”

“You have it. Knowing that, will you be able to relax a bit towards me?”

Lucrezia gazed at Vannozza with eyes that begged for understanding.

“Mom, I admire you so much. You raised Cesare with such love, and it shows in his character. I want you to feel that he has a wife whom you can trust to do right by him, to take proper care of him.”

“I want my son to have a wife who is a human being. Who has quirks and strengths and weaknesses just like any other human being. You’re a wonderful woman. I could not have chosen a better wife for Cesare than you are. Or a more beloved daughter for me.”

Lucrezia began to weep. Vannozza embraced her.

“Rodrigo and I love you, my dearest. We are so glad Cesare brought you to us. I am thrilled that you want to spend time with me. I always wanted to have a daughter. I used to imagine how I would cuddle her and brush her hair and have tea parties with her. Tell secrets. Get our nails done together. Go to museums and concerts and shopping expeditions.”

“We’ll do all that, Mom. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I was so afraid at first that you wouldn’t like me.”

“In heaven's name, why?”

“Well, the quickie marriage, for one thing. I figured you’d want a big wedding “

“When Rodrigo and I got married, we had the ceremony on a shoestring at City Hall. We were poor as churchmice. But we were very much in love. Thirty years later, we still are. Big weddings, all those expensive trappings...such a waste of money. Cesare wanted nothing except to make you his wife. He adores you. That’s good enough for me.”

“You are so kind. But you know very little about me. My background.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

“It’s not pretty.”

“You had it tough, I take it? Disadvantaged? I look at the lovely woman you are and can only admire the strength and courage you must have had. You’re intelligent, poised, refined. A perfect young lady”

“I feared you’d be ashamed of me.”

“Darling, I’m proud of you. Proud _for_ you. Eager for you to begin college in the fall. How you’ll thrive!”

“Mom, there are things you don’t know about me. Things of which I am very ashamed.”

“Everyone has such things…”

Lucrezia shook her head.

“Bad things, Mom. Really bad things.”

“I can’t believe it of you. I won’t believe it.”

Lucrezia pulled back from Vannozza’s embrace.

“Mom, there are things about me that, if you knew, I’m afraid you’d never want to see me again. Never want me in either Cesare’s life or yours.”

“My darling child, that’s not possible. You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”

“No, of course not. But…”

“Lucrezia, if there are bad things in your past, I can only imagine that you were more sinned against than a sinner.”

“Oh, Mom!” Lucrezia began to sob. “I want so much to tell you, but I just can’t.”

Vannozza drew Lucrezia down onto her lap and began to stroke her silky, golden head.

“I can see how your secrets trouble you, Lucrezia, and that troubles me. I hate to think that there are things you feel you need to keep from me. But I won’t pressure you. Maybe someday, you will be able to confide in me. But for now, please keep this in mind. I look at you and see a beautiful young woman whom I love with all my heart. You say you’ve done bad things? Well, I don’t care. I mean, I _do_ care that you carry such a burden of guilt. I _do_ care that your past weighs you down. But there is nothing, and I mean _nothing_ , that will change my opinion of you.”

“Do you really mean that? Because you have no idea what…”

“I have a pretty broad imagination, my dear. And I’m not that easily shocked.”

Lucrezia hugged her mother-in-law’s waist.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Sweetie. Let me hold you in my lap for just a while longer. Make believe that you are my little girl. How dear you are to me!”

Lucrezia closed her eyes and sighed in contentment.

 

At the third of the five antique shops the women visited, Lucrezia came across a very large, heavy, footed ceramic bowl of robin’s egg blue. She inhaled reverently as she picked it up in her hands and turned it around and around.

“What is it about that bowl that attracts you?” Vannozza asked, touched by the tremulous glow in Lucrezia’s eyes as she examined the object.

“I really don’t know, Mom. It just speaks to me somehow.”

“Then you must have it, of course. My gift to you.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll cherish it forever. And tomorrow I’ll cook spaghetti for you and Dad and serve it in this beautiful bowl.”

“Homemade spaghetti! What a treat that will be. You spoil us.”

“I like being domestic, Mom”

“You amaze me. You don’t have a housekeeper. You do all the household chores yourself. Your own cooking. Your own laundry. Can you honestly say you enjoy it?”

“I do, Mom. I never expected to have a real home and a real family. I still have to pinch myself.”

“Well, who am I to say what should make you happy? I just hope Cesare appreciates all you do for him.”

“Oh, he’s wonderful. He understands that this is all new to me. He’s patient with me. For instance, he doesn’t get mad at me if I lay out the wrong shirt for him…”

“You lay out his clothes?”

“Sure. Didn’t you do it for him when he still lived at home? Don’t you do it for Dad?”

“Indeed not! I’m not a valet. And neither are you.”

“But it’s really no trouble. I love doing things for Cesare.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he loves it too. The big baby!”

 

Vannozza and Lucrezia, laden with shopping bags, bustled into the apartment where Cesare had just sat down with a ham sandwich and a beer to watch a Saturday afternoon hockey game on television.

“So you women finally decided to come home? Did you have to hit every antique shop within a fifty mile radius? I got really hungry.”

Lucrezia's face crumpled.

“Oh, Cesare. I’m sorry. I should have gotten home sooner.”

Vannozza tut-tutted in mild disapproval.

"It won’t kill Cesare to make himself a sandwich now and then. You do too much for him.

“But I want to.”

“Enough about me,” Cesare grumbled. “What did you two find?”

Lucrezia unwrapped the footed bowl and held it out for Cesare to see.

“Look what Mom bought me.”

“Oh, Sweetie, it’s nothing much, really,” Vannozza said with a smile. “It’s hardly a Ming.”

“But it’s so beautiful, and it’s a gift from you. That means everything to me. Cesare, Mom and Dad are coming over tomorrow for spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti, huh? Cool.” Cesare rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Could you make us garlic bread? And salad? And get some of that chocolate gelato for dessert?”

Vannozza turned towards her son.

“Cesare Borgia! Listen to yourself. You sound like a four year old. A pampered four year old. If you want gelato, would it kill you to pick it up yourself?”

“Lucrezia likes to go grocery shopping.”

“It seems to me that’s the only time she leaves the house, other than with me.”

“I offer to take her out and she says no. She just wants to stay here, Mom.”

“I’m happiest at home with Cesare,” Lucrezia insisted.

“He has you brainwashed.”

Her eyes soft and yearning, Lucrezia went to stand behind Cesare’s chair and caressed his cheek. He caught her hand in his and kissed it.

“He’s my everything, Mom. I love him so much.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy...”

“I am, Mom. I am. I know it’s not what the zeitgeist says I’m supposed to want, but, given how I grew up…well, to find myself with a home, and you and Dad, and my Cesare…I’m not saying this very well. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Vannozza quickly brushed away a tear.

“You’ve said it perfectly, my darling.”

Deeply affected by Lucrezia’s heartfelt expression of love for him, Cesare returned the sentiment in the best way he knew how. That night, he screwed her brains out.

 

Vannozza, in a sky-blue silk robe, sat at her dressing table brushing her thick brown hair and pondering about her daughter-in-law. She picked up her phone and called Cesare at his office.

“Lucrezia hinted to me that she had a difficult childhood, Cesare. Has she told you anything about it?”

“She did, Mom. I don’t know how she survived it, much less became the person she is today.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“It’s not my place to, Mom. She’s scared that you will think badly of her if you knew her background. I tell her it’s just the opposite. That you’ll feel admiration and respect for her. As close as she is to you, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before she confides in you.”

“I sense in her such a lack of self-esteem. Like she’s terrified that she will give offense unless she completely submits herself. I once adopted a puppy from an animal shelter. The poor little thing had been badly abused and was scared to death. It took ages before she felt safe enough to relax and trust me. Lucrezia reminds me in some ways of that puppy.”

“You’re right about Lucrezia having been mistreated as a child, Mom, but surely you don’t think she’s insecure now. With me.”

“She waits on you hand and foot. Treats you like a king.”

“She likes to. I don’t demand it.”

“Why do you think she does that? Maybe because she’s terrified you’ll stop loving her if she doesn’t kiss your ass. That you’ll get sick of her and throw her out.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Maybe, just maybe, her self-image is so fragile that she can’t imagine anyone loving her for her true self. So she puts on this persona for you of a perfect, sunny little robot who wants nothing more than to launder your underwear and get you a beer. And you’re only too happy to let her believe that’s what she has to do to keep you happy.”

“I don’t think that way. What would you have me do for Lucrezia?”

“Let her know you love her no matter what. That it’s okay for her to disagree with you. That she doesn’t have to act like your servant.”

“But...”

“I know you like her to pamper you, but could you let her know that she doesn’t have to? That you love her and always will, no matter what.”

“I thought that was obvious. I married her, didn’t I?”

“With Lucrezia, you’re going to have to reassure her. A lot.”

 

Lucrezia slipped her hand into Vannozza’s as they were driven back from a visit to the art museum to view a special exhibit of illustrious Old Masters paintings.

“Mom, I’m so glad I got to see those beautiful works with you.”

“I’m happy too. How about we go to my apartment for some coffee and a nice chat?”

 

Seated on the sofa in her living room, Vannozza beamed a tender smile at her daughter-in-law over a gold-rimmed china cup.

“I enjoy your company so much. You’re so intelligent. So well versed about the arts. I am astonished to hear you say that you never had an education.”

“But it’s true. I used to watch operas and ballets on PBS television. And I tried to read as much as I could about all sorts of things, history and paintings and sculpture and artists.”

“What did you hope to do after high school?”

“I really didn’t know.”

“Did you discuss it with your mother?”

“No, not really. I guess she expected me to…um…well, I had a sort of job that I had been working at after school. At night. So Mom expected me to continue with that.”

“Oh. What kind of job?”

“I…I…”

“Oh, dear. Have I blundered into something uncomfortable for you? I’m sorry.”

“Mom, before I met Cesare, I was a…a…”

Vannozza laid her hand over Lucrezia’s, which had begun to tremble.

“Darling, if you don’t want to tell me…"

“I was a prostitute.”

Lucrezia hung her head, waiting for her mother-in-law to recoil in disgust.

“My dearest child,” Vannozza said quietly. “My heart breaks for you. How did you come to such a life?”

“My mother was a prostitute. I didn’t know it at the time. I just thought she had a lot of boyfriends. I guess maybe one of them was my father.”

“Oh, Lucrezia!”

“When I was thirteen, she let a man into my bedroom with me. She told me he had paid her a lot of money and I should do whatever he wanted.”

Lucrezia’s hand had turned icy cold. When she resumed speaking, her voice was soft and sing-song, almost childlike.

“I had seen this man once or twice before at the house, but didn’t really know him. He was a lot older than me, with a big belly. He was loud, and he had big, meaty hands with sweaty palms. He told me to kiss him, but his lips were greasy and his breath smelled of sour beer. I didn’t want to kiss him, so he grabbed me and pressed his mouth to mine, and shoved his tongue between my teeth. I kind of gagged, so he slapped me. Then he told me to get undressed. When I hesitated, he yelled at me and reminded me what my mother had said, that I was to do whatever he wanted. So I took off my clothes except for my underpants and he began to run his hands all over me. He pinched my nipples and rolled them between his fingers. It hurt and I began to cry, but he ignored me and kept on.”

Vannozza’s head spun. She feared she might vomit. _Thirteen...just thirteen_. Struggling to maintain a calm demeanor, she gently encouraged Lucrezia to continue.

“He told me to take off my panties and walk around the room and let him get a good look at me. I was shaking and tried to cover myself with my hands, but he pulled them away. He ordered me to dance for him. I felt stupid, humiliated, but he bellowed at me, ‘Dance, goddam you.’ So I did. Or, I tried to. I didn’t know any dances. He started to kind of growl in his throat and then he unzipped his pants and…and…and…”

Vannozza reached over and pulled Lucrezia close to her, keeping her arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders.

“He…” Lucrezia went on. “He reached into his pants and pulled out his…and he beckoned me over to him and told me to kneel…”

“Oh, Lucrezia…Sweetheart…” Vannozza began to rock her daughter-in-law in her arms.

“I didn’t know what was happening. I gagged again and he slapped me again. Then he pulled me to my feet and dragged me to my bed. He shoved me onto it and threw me down onto my back. He was so heavy, I thought he would crush me. He smelled awful, beer and sweat and garlic. He shoved his tongue into my mouth again, and then he…he…It hurt so badly. I think I screamed. Maybe I just screamed in my mind. I don’t remember how long it lasted. It seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. When he got up off of me, I just lay there with my eyes closed, shaking. When he left the room, I opened my eyes and saw that I was bleeding. I thought it was my period, although I wasn’t due for another week. Then my mom came into my room and sat beside me on the bed. She was smiling and I could tell she was happy with me. 'There, now,’ she said. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ She put me in the shower and I washed away the blood and the smell of the man. I just kept scrubbing until my skin was red. While I was bathing, Mom changed the sheets on my bed. I put on a robe and went back to my room. Mom gave me a hug and told me I was a good girl, that I could now contribute to the family finances. From then on, she expected me to bring in money. She taught me what to do.”

“Lucrezia,” Vannozza gasped. “Your own mother!”

"About a week after the…uh…the first time, she took me to a doctor she knew because I was showing symptoms of what turned out to be chlamydia.”

“Oh, honey, no!”

“The doctor gave me antibiotics and told me to come back to be retested when I had finished the course. He didn’t ask any questions, but Mom carried on to him anyway, like she was horrified at me. Said she had no idea what I had been up to. Called me a tramp and asked the doctor to give me birth control pills since I was being promiscuous.”

“Jesus! She did that to you?”

“When we left the doctor’s office, she told me that she had to put on an act so that the doctor wouldn’t call Child Welfare. I don’t think the doctor much cared how I had gotten infected. I found out later that most of his patients were prostitutes. He treated their venereal diseases and performed abortions and stitched them up when they were beaten by their pimps or sometimes by disgruntled customers. The street can be rough.”

“Certainly no place for a little girl.”

“I never walked the streets. My mother brought men home to me. Men who liked very young girls. She insisted that they use condoms. In fact, the first man…my first customer…had promised her he would use a condom but he lied. Mom was so mad at him that she never let him near me again because that bout of chlamydia took me out of commission for nearly two weeks. Mom said we couldn’t afford the loss of income. Word about me got around fast and soon I had lots of customers.”

“You poor child!”

“I figured it was what I was supposed to do. I didn’t know any different. When I was giving her my earnings, my mother seemed to be pleased with me. She kissed me and said nice things to me.

“Was that the only time she showed you approval?”

“Pretty much. She never beat me or starved me or anything like that. But she only paid attention to me when I was handing her money. I learned to stay detached from everything. If I cared about nothing, I couldn’t be hurt. I told myself I was in control. When I was fourteen, Mom moved to upstate New York and left me with a friend of hers, who made me call her Aunt Celeste. She ran a whorehouse. There are a lot of men who want to have sex with underage girls, and I became a popular attraction for awhile. About the time I turned seventeen, I had gotten too old for the pedophile trade, so I needed to find a new clientele. For my own enjoyment, I had begun going to museums and libraries and there I met a different class of men, who were more upscale. They could afford to pay better. I was able to move into my own apartment when I was nineteen. By then, I felt pretty classy. I was able to buy beautiful clothes and kept myself well groomed. I was a ‘call girl’ instead of a common ‘hooker,’ and that made me feel proud of myself. I was independent, self-reliant, in control of my life. Then I met Cesare, and I fell so hard for him. I was terrified. All these unfamiliar emotions…I felt so vulnerable. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop caring for him. I don’t know how to behave. How to love him properly. I’m so afraid I’ll ruin things. Afraid I’ll lose him. Afraid I’ll lose you and Dad.”

Vannozza’s eyes overflowed with tears.

“I’m so sorry, my dearest. I grieve that you ever had to know such a life. I wish I could take that all away, but I can’t. What I can do is appreciate that you are in my life now. Let you know how grateful I am that Cesare brought you to me. You are a beautiful girl with a beautiful soul and you love my son and make him happy. I love you with all my heart.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“You've been so hideously abused, I can’t even begin to imagine how you could ever allow yourself to trust or care for anyone.”

“I just glommed onto Cesare and to you and Dad. You were all so kind and generous and accepting. When I was with you, I felt…clean.”

“Lucrezia, you _are_ clean. You’ve known nothing but cruelty and exploitation, yet you have managed to remain loving and sweet and angelic.”

“Angelic? Mom, I was a _whore_!”

Vannozza flinched at the word.

“Never say that about yourself again.”

“Cesare tells me not to say it either. But it’s the truth.”

“You were a horribly abused child. I promise you…I _swear_ to you, no one will ever abuse you again.”

“You’re not disgusted with me?”

“I am disgusted, but certainly not with you. Never with you.”

“Mom, suddenly I feel exhausted. Could I lie down for awhile in your bed?”

“Of course. Come on. I’ll tuck you in.”

After Lucrezia undressed, Vannozza garbed her in her own favorite blue silk robe, then snuggled her comfortably under the blankets on her bed and sat down beside her. Lucrezia laid her head on her mother-in-law’s bosom.

“You go to sleep now, my dear,” Vannozza crooned. “I will watch over you and keep you safe.”

“Am I safe, Mom?”

“Safe in my arms.”

Lucrezia yawned and sighed and was asleep in minutes.

Vannozza gently slipped out from under her, went into the bathroom and sobbed until she had no more tears to shed.


	5. White Silk, White Diamonds, White Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein is exhibited parental behavior, Borgia-style

I like lying here in bed and watching you at your dressing table brushing your hair. You’re so gorgeous.

_You make me blush. And feel beautiful._

You **are** beautiful. I love you so much.

_Keep on saying that and I will eventually believe you._

Today must have been tough for you. Your first session with the psychiatrist.

_It was. But it felt good in a way. Like when an abscess bursts and the painful pressure is eased. It was so thoughtful of you to bring Chinese food home for dinner so I didn’t have to cook._

I figured you might be pretty tired. I wish you had let me go with you.

_Please understand, Cesare. I needed Mom to be there._

I guess so. You need to find a whole new way to think about mothers, don’t you?

_The doctor wants us to have a family session sometime down the road. You and your parents and me._

And Vickie too?

_No, Cesare. Not her. Please. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. She would never acknowledge that she hurt me._

Honey, don’t cry. We’ll do whatever you want. You call the shots.

_Will you hold me? I feel scared and sad._

Don’t even ask. Just come on over here.

_You’re so strong. I feel so sheltered in your arms._

No one will ever hurt you again. I swear it.

_Mom tells me that too._

And she means it. Don’t let that ladylike exterior fool you. She can be a grizzly bear when it comes to protecting her loved ones.

_Cesare, does Dad know about me?_

No. Whether you tell him or not is up to you. But he loves you with all his heart. I think his reaction would be the same as Mom’s.

_You really think so?_

Honey, what happened to you was hideous. Horrific. And most of all, not of your own choosing. You have no reason to feel shame. But there is something I have to tell you that makes me ashamed of myself.

_Cesare, darling! What could you possibly…?_

That monster your mother sold you to…he made you dance for him.

_Yes._

Well, after I first met you, I was so hot for you. I used to have these dreams every night where you would come and dance for me wearing only your pretty white panties. Then when you told me about that…incident…I was ashamed of myself. I was no better than he was.

_You really had such dreams? This is kind of uncanny, my love. I used to have dreams at night about dancing topless for you as well. But for you it was so different. I **wanted** to do it. I liked it. I liked showing myself to you. I liked how you looked at me. It made me feel good. Made me feel sexy and liberated instead of humiliated and used._

Baby, when I look at you, when I touch you, when I’m inside you…it’s a sacred thing. A sacrament.

_When you make love to me, I feel holy. Pure. Untainted._

You’re an angel. My angel.

 

While Cesare and Rodrigo visited a sporting goods store, Vannozza and Lucrezia were having coffee at the food court of a shopping mall when an older man in a polo shirt and Bermuda shorts approached them.

“Nikki! Where the hell have you been all this time? I tried calling you and your number was disconnected.”

“You have me confused with someone else, sir.”

“Come on, Nikki. Quit playing games. Who is this gal with you? Your mom? You know, I’ve always wanted to do a mother and daughter.”

Vannozza stood.

“My daughter just told you she is not this ‘Nikki’ person. You are insulting. Please leave.”

“Whoa, lady! Just who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I know damn well this is Nikki, the best little piece of ass…”

Vannozza slapped him, hard.

“Leave. Now.”

Two security guards arrived, running.

“What’s going on here? Ladies, is this man bothering you?”

“Indeed he is,” Vannozza declared. “I’ve politely asked him to leave and he won’t.”

“Hey, hold on, lady,” the man sputtered. “What’s with the act here? This is Nikki, the hooker I’ve been…”

His remarks were choked off suddenly when Rodrigo Borgia’s big, hard hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and yanked hard.

“You get the hell out of here before I kick your ass out.”

The security guards took hold of the man by his arms.

“Our apologies,” one of them said to the Borgias. “Come along, Buddy. We’re going to leave these nice folks alone now.”

“But…but…”

“Look, Pal. You made a mistake. So let’s just be on your way, huh?”

The guards hustled the intruder away. Lucrezia, tears coursing down her flaming cheeks, stared at the floor.

Rodrigo took his daughter-in-law by the hand. “Looks like I got here in the nick of time. Cesare should be along any minute now. Did that jackass frighten you, Lucrezia? I’m so sorry.”

“Dad,” Lucrezia stammered. “Daddy…there’s something I have to tell you.”

 

**_Item in the society column of the morning paper:_ **

_Who was that lady on the arm of handsome, distinguished investment banker Rodrigo Borgia at yesterday’s antique auction at the Commodore Hotel? Why, that stunning blonde in the form-fitting Alexander McQueen dress was none other than the new Mrs. Cesare Borgia, Rodrigo’s daughter-in-law. “I love going to antique auctions,” the proud patriarch declared. “My wife couldn’t join me today, so Lucrezia graciously agreed to accompany me. Isn’t she beautiful?” Mr. Borgia’s gallant attention won him an affectionate kiss on the cheek from his son’s bride, causing him to beam with paternal pleasure. The obvious warmth between the two delighted the onlookers, including this reporter._

 

_I **tem in the police report of an incident at a jewelry store:**_

_Received a call from Aiden Marshall, manager of Clarke’s Jewelers, reporting an altercation between two men, Phillip Stone and Rodrigo Borgia. Borgia claimed that Stone approached his daughter-in-law, Lucrezia Borgia, and grabbed her by the arms, speaking to her in an obscene and offensive manner. Borgia intervened and the men exchanged blows when Stone referred to Borgia as Mrs. Borgia’s new Sugar Daddy. Mrs. Borgia declined to press assault charges against Stone, who agreed to forego similar charges against Borgia. Stone then left. After purchasing a diamond tennis bracelet for Mrs. Borgia, Mr. Borgia escorted her from the premises._

 

For Lucrezia’s twenty-first birthday, Vannozza planned a low-key evening of dinner and dancing.

“I thought you would prefer an intimate celebration to a big, splashy party,” she said. “Just the four of us at a really fine restaurant with a dance band.”

“It sounds exactly like the kind of thing that would please me most, Mom.”

 

Cesare led his wife from their table out onto the dance floor and swept her into his arms. She wore a dress which was a birthday present from her in-laws, a simple, beautifully cut gown of pure white silk. Around her throat, she wore Cesare’s gift, a strand of very fine white pearls.

“Symbol of purity and new beginnings,” he had said to her as he fastened the clasp and kissed her shoulder.

Enchanted, Rodrigo gazed at Lucrezia as she danced, her golden head pressed against her husband’s chest.

“She’s positively angelic in that white dress, Vannozza. A seraph.”

“Please tell her that, won’t you? Tell her what she means to you.”

“Why, I dote upon her! But surely she knows that.”

Vannozza sighed. _Clueless oaf!_

“Please, Rodrigo, tell her. Just tell her.”

“Well, if you think I should…”

“You should. We all should. She needs to hear it.”

Vannozza leaned back in her chair and regarded Cesare and Lucrezia as they danced. How stalwart he seemed, tall and straight-backed as he held his wife in his arms. She was so tiny, so fragile, like a delicate white flower. It was clear that, for them, the room and everyone in it had vanished. They gazed into each other’s eyes, lost. Cesare lowered his head and Lucrezia rose onto her tiptoes. They stopped dancing and stood, his arms around her waist, her arms about his neck, locked in a kiss of such transcendent passion that the couples dancing around them halted and stared.

“Rodrigo, look at them. They’re so beautiful. So much in love.”

“Just as we are.”

Rodrigo stood and extended his arm.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

Blushing, Vannozza laid her hand in Rodrigo’s palm.

“With pleasure, my lord.”


	6. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein are discussed illusions and reality

“Lucrezia, honey, there’s no need to rush. We aren’t expected at Aunt Angie’s for another two hours. Mom and Dad will be picking us up in the town car, and it’s maybe a twenty-five minute drive.”

With a towel draped around his waist, Cesare emerged from the bathroom into the bedroom and was pleasantly astonished to see that Lucrezia, rummaging through her lingerie drawer, was dressed in a skirt but nothing else.

“Um…Baby. Did you forget something?”

“I can’t find the bra I want.”

“You have so many bras that you can’t even close your drawer. Surely you can find something you like.”

She straightened and turned to fully face him.

“Cesare, you just don’t understand.”

“I understand that seeing you like this is driving me crazy. Damn, you’re hot!”

He caught her in his arms and nuzzled her nipples. “Forget the bra for now.”

Continuing to kiss and caress her bare breasts, he slowly walked her towards the bed. When the backs of her knees encountered the frame, they bent and propelled her down onto the mattress. Laughing, she reached out to strip Cesare of his towel, delighted to find him stiff and ready. He pushed her skirt up to her waist.

“Damn, I love these little white panties of yours…Aw, shit!”

“What?”

“Look what I did. I’m worse than a teenager. Let me get a tissue and wipe you off.”

“No, Cesare, please don’t”

She rubbed her hands over her belly and then brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them.

“Goddam, Woman! No wonder I get so excited over you that I can’t control myself.”

“I can’t control myself either, Cesare. Just about every waking moment, I think of you. And I want you.”

His voice dropped to a velvet growl. “You can have me. Whenever you want me. I’m yours.”

He lowered his body down onto hers. “Now let me make you happy.”

 

Stepping into the senior Borgia’s town car, Lucrezia greeted her in-laws with a smile.

“So glad to see you. I’m excited to be going to visit your aunt and uncle, Mom.”

“They’re excited too, Sweetie. Ever since they met you, they’ve been asking us to come over for dinner. Aunt Angie wanted to know what kinds of food you like so she could cook them for you.”

“That’s so nice of her.”

Cesare laughed affectionately.

“Aunt Angie and Uncle Tony are a pair. She’s this tiny little woman. Barely comes up to my waist. Uncle Tony is a bulldog of a man, but Angie rules the roost.”

“Just as all wives do,” Rodrigo chuckled.

Vannozza shot Cesare a look that dared him to agree with his father. The young man, wisely remaining silent, kissed his wife’s hand.

 

As Lucrezia alighted from the town car, she took in the modest, charming brick bungalow which was home to Uncle Tony and Aunt Angie. A pair of pink flamingos graced the small, neatly-trimmed front yard. Near the front porch stood an arched, concrete shrine containing a brightly-painted statue of the Blessed Mother. A pottery vase just off to the side held an offering of red plastic tulips.

Uncle Tony met them at the door with bear hugs and hearty greetings. Aunt Angie, wearing a flowered apron, came out of the kitchen briefly to say hello and then retreated. Vannozza and Lucrezia followed her.

“You’re guests,” Angie protested. “You go sit down.”

“We want to help,” Lucrezia insisted. “Besides, it gives us a chance to spend time with you.”

Mollified, delighted, Aunt Angie exclaimed, “What a little sweetheart she is, Vannozza. So pretty. And she takes such good care of the boy.”

“Indeed she does, Aunt Angie,” Vannozza agreed. “We love her.”

Angie reached up to pat Lucrezia’s cheek.

“You’re a good girl.”

Lucrezia kissed Aunt Angie’s palm.

“Thank you, Aunt Angie. And thank you for inviting me to your home.”

Chatting happily, the women set the table and called the men to eat. Uncle Tony proudly poured glasses of his homemade red wine and called for a toast.

“ _La famiglia_!” he shouted, and everyone echoed him.

“Tony, there’s nothing like a glass of your _Rosso_ ,” Rodrigo declared, having taken a large, appreciative gulp. “It gets better and better.”

“Experience, _vecchio mio_. No substitute for experience.”

Aunt Angie loved to prepare food for her company, and this evening she had her dining room table groaning under the weight of her culinary bounty. Having stuffed her guests with luscious minestrone, savory lasagna and a legion of vegetable side dishes, she rose and, with help from Vannozza and Lucrezia, cleared the table before serving tiramisu and rich, dark coffee, to delighted exclamations from the men.

“Aunt Angie, you’re a goddess!” Cesare grinned.

“A good meal, Anj,” Uncle Tony mumbled. Coming from him, this was highest praise indeed.

Over more coffee, conversation continued in the living room.

Aunt Angie, exercising the prerogative of an elderly relative, took Lucrezia by the hand. “ _Bella mia_. No baby yet?”

Lucrezia blushed. “Not yet.”

“Lucrezia wants to go to school first, Aunt Angie. She never had a chance before. We have plenty of time for a baby later,” Cesare interjected.

“You young people. I don’t understand.” Angie shook her head. “The most important thing in the world is family. Children. What do you think marriage is for anyway? Just so you can roll around with her in the bed? Give her a baby, Cesare. Watch how happy you make her.”

“Aunt Angie!” Vannozza cried, her cheeks reddened.

Uncle Tony laughed. “Unless they get a baby like our Tony Junior.”

“Shame on you, Tony,” Angie’s voice was reproachful. “Junior is a good boy. He just needs more time to sort things out for himself.”

“More time? Anj, he’s forty-seven years old. Don’t you think he’s had time enough?”

“He’s good to his mamma. That’s all I know.”

Vannozza stood up to pour everyone some more coffee and attempt to change the subject.

“Lucrezia plans to study Art History in the fall.”

 

Lucrezia, seated on the couch in her psychiatrist’s office, hugged a large sofa pillow to her bosom.

“Doctor Jordan, I’ve been thinking. My husband’s Aunt Angie is right about what’s really important. I want to have a baby. Now, not later.”

“But you were so set on getting an education.”

“I can still do that. I _will_ still do that. But I want a baby. I want lots of babies.”

“Lucrezia, I hope you won’t let anyone influence you. The decision to have a baby is a huge one. In your aunt’s generation, people got married and started families right away. But that was then.”

“You and I both know I’m an anachronism. Maybe it’s because of the way I grew up, but what I want most is a family. Don’t you think that would please Cesare’s parents too?”

“Sure, but you and he shouldn’t have a baby just to please them.”

“I wouldn’t, Doctor. Honestly. But I just know that having babies would make me so happy. It would be perfect. A perfect family.”

“Lucrezia, nothing on earth is perfect. Especially children. They rarely turn out the way we think they will.”

“That wouldn’t happen to Cesare and me.”

“Are you so sure?”

“We’d be good parents, devoted parents. Cesare’s parents are perfect, and he is exactly what his father wanted in a son.”

“Lucrezia, it’s understandable that you would yearn for a family life completely different from the one you experienced. But I’m concerned that you may have this illusion of what your family will be. Perfect angels. A daughter in little pinafores with her hair in curls. A son who is valedictorian of his class and goes on to become a doctor who cures cancer. But the reality is that you may have a girl who prefers to wear overalls and play football and dig in the dirt. A son who forever gets into trouble, bullies other kids and does nothing but raise hell.”

Lucrezia began to cry.

“How do you know this? I admit I didn’t have a good example growing up, but Cesare’s mom would help me. You’re implying I’ll be a terrible mother.”

“It’s not that. Not that at all. But I’m concerned you’ll be disappointed and then blame yourself when things don’t turn out as you want. People are people. They’re imperfect. Talk to Cesare. I’ll bet he and his parents had their differences. Maybe they fought like hell because he didn’t want to go to college. Didn’t want to join the family business. Insisted on keeping his long hair. All families have their issues, even though they love each other. Could you accept that? Allow your kids to be themselves, just kids? Understand that there will be joy and sorrows, pride and embarrassment despite anything you do?”

“Why are you being so negative? I always told myself that I wanted my independence, but deep down, I yearned for a child. A baby will be mine, love me unconditionally, no matter what.”

“Oh, Lucrezia. You’ve got it backwards. Children don’t love you unconditionally. You love them unconditionally.”

She stiffened.

“Are you saying that I shouldn’t have children?”

“Certainly not, Lucrezia. But you can’t change the past. You can’t relive your childhood vicariously through your own children. You’d be setting yourself up for disappointment and them for lives of frustration and feeling like they’re failing you.”

“Is that what I’m doing, Doctor Jordan? Trying to remake my life?”

“I wonder if that isn’t what’s motivating you.”

Lucrezia’s brow furrowed in deep thought. The doctor continued.

“Your childhood was a nightmare. You doubtless want to ensure that your own children would never go through such hell. Lavish attention on them. Make them feel safe and loved and treasured. As all children should feel. But is it reasonable to expect them to recognize how much better they have it than you did? Their perspective would be completely different from yours. Wouldn’t they simply take such love and security for granted? And wouldn’t you want them to do just that? Grow up feeling worthy of love and feeling good about themselves?”

“Do you have children, Doctor Jordan?”

“Four. Three girls and a boy. Each different. Each precious. They are young adults now, and I adore them all. But it hasn’t always been easy. Or smooth sailing. I was convinced that my wife and I would be paragons of parental virtue, with beautifully-dressed, perfectly behaved children, showing the world what perfect parents we were. Well, we soon found out. Our eldest, Mira, turned out to be colicky. Cried constantly. I thought I’d lose my mind. My wife and I came to despise each other. ‘You get up with her.’ 'No, you do it. It’s your turn.’ 'I got up last time.' One Easter Sunday, all decked out in her little white dress and little white shoes and socks with lace trim, she pitched a tantrum in church, threw herself on the floor shrieking at the top of her lungs, just like those odious brats my wife and I used to look down our noses at, congratulating ourselves that _our_ children would never behave in such a manner. And our son, Davey. Well, when he was fifteen, the police brought him home, having picked him up while riding in a stolen car. Hannah got pregnant at seventeen. She kept the baby, and he’s the sunshine of our lives, but at the time, we thought the world was ending. Rena decided she wanted to go and live in a commune in Colorado. A two hundred fifty thousand dollar education, and she now lives in a commune with no electricity, no flush toilets. Spends her days growing tomatoes and smoking pot.”

“Oh, Doctor Jordan, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. The kids are fine. My wife and I are proud of them. But over the years, we had to learn to let go of our lofty expectations. Learned to laugh. Learned to roll with it. Learned that we were dealing not with mere extensions of ourselves, but with standalone human beings who were going to do what they were going to do, no matter what we wanted. And you know what? We wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

 

_Cesare, I’ve been thinking._

Uh-oh.

_Were you a good boy when you were little?_

What do you mean by ‘good?’

_Did you get along with your parents? Make them proud of you?_

What are you getting at?

_Well, your parents are so wonderful. Perfect. They must have given you a great childhood. Did you appreciate it? Were you grateful to them? Close to them?_

I loved my parents, sure. But perfect? Appreciate them? I hate to say this, but I was a pretty typical teenager and young man. Sometimes I thought of them as the Antichrist. Like the entire purpose of their life was to ruin mine.

_Cesare! You can’t mean that._

Unfortunately, I do. Dad was so determined that I was going to follow in his footsteps with his banking firm that he wouldn’t hear of anything else for me. So we fought like crazy. Constantly. I decided that I wanted to go live in an artist’s colony in California. Deep down, I wanted Dad’s career path too, but I couldn’t admit it, even to myself. It seemed to my teenage self that I would be selling out. Conventionality. Three-piece suit and tie. Horrors! I was furious at my mom for not taking my part against Dad as strongly as I felt I deserved. And I did the usual stupid adolescent shit, underage drinking, smoking pot, goofing off in school. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face when the cops brought me home totally wasted one night. Her shock and disappointment had a much greater effect on me than Dad’s ranting about how I was going to ruin my future, never get into Harvard. I was so ashamed of myself that I never did it again.

_I must say that this is a revelation I never would have expected from you._

Baby, my parents aren’t perfect. I’m far from perfect. But in spite of everything, we managed to come through it with our family and our sanity intact.

_I guess I’ve been looking at you with rose-colored glasses._

Look at me and see an imperfect human being who loves you madly.

_To me, you **are** perfect._

You’re being unfair to both of us if you look for perfection in me. I have faults in abundance. I snore. I expect you to coddle me. I throw my clothes on the floor…

_Those aren’t faults. Those are…eccentricities._

Honey, what’s brought on this line of thinking?

_I want us to have a baby._

When? You’re all set to start school. Wouldn’t a baby interfere with that?

_Not necessarily. I can go to school and have a baby, can’t I?_

Are you letting what Aunt Angie said influence you?

_Well, maybe a little. But I love you so much. I want to have your children._

Children? Plural? How many do you want?

_I don’t know. Five. Six._

What do you think we are? The Kennedys?

 

Standing in the bathroom, Lucrezia’s eyes widened as she stared at the plastic wand in her hand.

“Cesare…Darling…I’m...I’m…”

He peered over her shoulder.

“Goddam! That didn’t take long, did it?”

“Are you surprised?”

“Kind of. I’m a little bit disappointed, too. I had hoped to have the fun of trying a bit longer.”

She ran her hand over the front of his trousers.

“Darling, you are packing a .44 Magnum. Naturally, you’d knock me up right away.”

He blushed. “Aw, hell, Baby…”


	7. Dialogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein occur dialogues neither Platonic nor Socratic

**_Item in the society column of the morning paper:_ **

We came across none other than Mr. and Mrs. Cesare Borgia looking at cribs and dressing tables in the infant’s department of a posh downtown department store. Mrs. Borgia, hiding her baby bump beneath an elegant Stella McCartney number, declined to say whether boy or girl. “We just want it to be healthy” she said with a Mona Lisa smile. Her tall, handsome husband only had eyes for her as they wandered through the aisles of furnishings, eventually settling on a Bassett Wakefield suite. With two such beautiful parents, the new Borgia bundle of joy, expected in autumn, will surely be a perfect Renaissance cherub.

 

_Hi, Mom. It’s Lucrezia. How are things in Watertown?_

Good thing you identified yourself. It’s been so long since I heard from you that I didn’t recognize your voice.

_Yes, I know it’s been awhile, but I figured you were okay or you’d have called me._

Maybe I haven’t called because I know it’s pointless to expect anything from you. Ever since that husband of yours cut me off from using your credit card, I’ve been in a bad way.

_Come on, Mom. Cesare agreed to up your monthly stipend to thirteen thousand dollars. Surely you can live comfortably on that. It’s more than you…_

Lucrezia, ever since he shut you up in that ivory tower, you have no idea how much things cost in the real world. I can’t begin to make ends meet. Why, right now, I’m even behind on my car payment.

_How can that be? I’m afraid you’ll just have to figure out what to do. Call the creditor. They’ll work with you. Mom…listen. The reason I called is to let you know…_

Couldn’t you ask your father-in-law to help me out? Just a couple of hundred dollars. Before the bank repossesses my car.

_No, I cannot ask Dad for money for you._

Why not?

_I just can’t._

Of course you can. I know he has eyes for you. I’ll bet he’d give you anything you wanted if you’d just throw a little sweet talk his way.

_Mom, that’s a disgusting insinuation. He treats me like a father, a real father. Not the way your dad treated you. Cesare’s dad is kind and protective and I love him._

By all means, love him. Give him what he wants from you.

_Mom, not every relationship is about sex. I’m sorry if that’s what life has taught you to believe, but it’s been different for me. Mom, listen, please. I’m calling to let you know that I’m expecting a baby._

Well, what do you know? You finally used your head and got yourself pregnant. Now they won’t ever be able to cut you out.

_That’s not why I’m having a baby, Mom. Cesare and I are thrilled. We’re having a boy. He’s due in mid-November._

Is the old man intending to set up a trust fund?

_Rodrigo is not an old man. And yes, he’s planning on setting something up, but I don’t know about any of that. The lawyers handle those things. Anyway, I’m feeling fine. I had some morning sickness for awhile, but that went away._

So you’re having a boy, you say? If you’re smart, you’ll name him after the grandfather. Butter him up.

_We do plan to name him Rodrigo. We want to honor Dad._

Well, never name a baby after me. I don’t exactly love the idea of being a grandmother. It makes me feel old.

_Being a grandmother won't make you old. You’ll never be old, Mom. You will always be beautiful. The fairest of them all._

I don’t need your sarcasm, young lady.

_I wasn’t being sarcastic. You are beautiful._

And what do you look like these days?

_I look pregnant, Mom. Just pregnant. Puffy. My face and ankles are puffy. My belly is big. I’m carrying big._

You’d better be careful, Lucrezia, or Cesare might start to look elsewhere. Are you keeping him happy in bed?

_He doesn’t mind my belly. He even says I’m sexy. As hard as this is for you to believe, he loves me. And yes, he is still happy with me. By the way, I started school. Art History. It’s fantastic._

What do you need that for? What a stupid thing to study!

_I’ve always loved art. If it becomes too much, I’ll take a semester off, but I feel blessed to be able to go to school. But, about the baby…he kicks a lot. Cesare’s mom says that he kicked a lot too. She found me an antique rocking chair._

Can’t that woman ever get you anything new? What did it cost?

_Mom, I like antiques. It’s beautiful. I don’t know what it cost. I didn’t ask. Look Mom, Cesare will be home soon and I have to get dinner started._

You still don’t have a housekeeper?

_I don’t want one. I like taking care of my home and my husband. Cesare would certainly hire a housekeeper if I wanted one. He treats me like a queen. I really have to go. I’ll keep you posted._

How about I come to see you?

_I don’t know if Cesare will allow that._

I’m still your mother, you know.

_Maybe when the baby is born. We’ll see. Bye, Mom._

 

_Hi, Mom. It’s Lucrezia._

Sweetie! How nice of you to call. How are you?

_Fine, thanks. How about you and Dad?_

We’re fine too.

_I’m so glad. Mom, could I ask a favor of you? Could I come over and take a nap in your bed?_

Of course. Is something wrong? You sound upset.

_Oh, I just got off the phone with my mother and I guess I am a little upset. I felt I really ought to call and tell her about the baby. I should have known how she’d react._

Lucrezia, I’m so sorry. You must be terribly disappointed. By all means, come on over. I’ll be thrilled to see you.

_Thanks, Mom. Will you let me wear your blue robe? And tuck me in?_

Yes, of course. I’ll make you a nice cup of hot chocolate.

_Please don’t go to any trouble for me._

No trouble at all. I want to fuss over you a bit.

_Well, then, if you don’t mind, I’d love some hot chocolate._

I’ll send the town car for you. It will be there in less than twenty minutes.

_I could walk, really. But if you want to send the car, then I’ll wait in the lobby of my building for it. Thanks, Mom. I love you._

 

_Cesare, it’s Mom. I’m calling to let you know that Lucrezia is here with me, taking a nap._

Did something upset her?

 _Now, don’t go getting mad, but she called her mother_.

What? Goddammit!

_Honey, she wanted to tell her about the baby. Vickie is still her mother, after all, and…_

Let me guess. Vickie was…Vickie.

_Yes._

Well, thanks for being there for Lucrezia. I just wish she’d stop trying to please that miserable bitch. There is no pleasing her. She’ll never be the kind of mother Lucrezia wishes for.

_It breaks my heart to see her get her hopes up. I think she’ll eventually realize that it isn’t her fault that Vickie can’t love her the way she deserves. That the problem is with Vickie._

Just when I think she’s doing better, WHAM! Something like this happens.

_Cesare, you can’t expect her to change overnight. She’s doing fine. Two steps forward and one step back. You have to understand that._

Sometimes I could just kill that woman.

_I know. Me too. Listen, Honey, how about you come home with Dad after work today. I’ll make dinner for us all and then you can take Lucrezia home. But you have to promise me that you won’t yell at her for calling her mother._

I could never yell at her. All I have to do is look into those eyes of hers and I melt into a puddle.

_Sweet boy, you make me proud that you’re my son._

 

Hello, Vannozza. It’s Vickie.

_Oh, Vickie! What a surprise! I was just thinking about you. I’m planning a baby shower for Lucrezia and wondered if you might have any ideas for it._

Baby showers are not my thing, Vannozza. But I am calling about Lucrezia.

_I’m sure you’re as excited as I am about our first grandchild._

At the risk of sounding mean, I have to tell you that I don’t look forward to it. Being called ‘Grandma’ isn’t something I welcome.

_Perhaps when the baby is here, you’ll feel differently._

I doubt it. But that’s not why I called. I think it’s time you and I had a little chat about financial matters.

_Oh? Whatever could you and I possibly have to talk about in that regard?_

Surely you know that your son has done all in his power to cut me out of my daughter’s life.

_How could he have done that?_

As if you don’t know. He took advantage of my situation to extort a promise from me to stay away from my own child.

_In exchange for what?_

A little bit of money. Barely enough to keep my head above water. What could I do? I’m impoverished. I had to agree to his terms.

_Vickie, Cesare is not a cruel man. I’m sure he had his reasons._

What possible reason could anyone have for depriving a mother of her daughter? I won’t beat around the bush, Vannozza. I know very well that I’ll never be accepted as a member of your family. All I can ever expect from any of you is money. To be paid off to get lost. So I might as well make the most of it. I’m sure my darling daughter has played the violin for you about her terrible childhood and her bitch-on-wheels mother.

_She has confided in me, yes._

Well, I won’t even make any attempt to tell you my side of it.

_That’s just as well, because I don’t care to hear it._

She really does have you hoodwinked, doesn’t she? Poor little Lucrezia. Poor little lamb.

_Get to the point, Vickie._

Fine. No one, not even someone as frugal as I am, can live on the pittance your son begrudgingly deigns to trickle down to me. So unless I get two million dollars in cash, I am going to go to every media outlet I can think of and sing them a little song about your daughter-in-law, the former whore. Wouldn’t that look great on the cover of “People Magazine?” Or a feature story on “Entertainment Tonight?” “The New York Times?” Why, you’d have the press camped out on the sidewalk of that swanky apartment building of yours night and day. Just think of how proud all of you will be when reporters shout out questions at you, like how much Lucrezia used to charge for a blow job. Think of how pleased your hoity-toity friends will be when their names show up in articles about Lucrezia and her former clients. Oh, yes, Vannozza. I can name names. Every one of them.

_Vickie. How could you do this? Lucrezia is your daughter._

So what? What good did that do me when she let her husband cut me out of her life with just chump change to live on?

_Thirteen thousand a month is hardly chump change._

Says you. When was the last time you had to live on that little? I barely survive. I’m serious, Vannozza. Pay up or I’ll start talking.

_I…I’ll need some time to come up with the money._

A rich bitch like you? You need time?

_I don’t have the funds at hand. Securities will have to be liquidated. Arrangements made._

Yeah, yeah, whatever. How much time?

_Two weeks at least._

Don’t fuck with me. Lady. You’ve got three days.

_Vickie…_

I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how I want the money delivered.

_Vickie, don’t hang up yet. Please…_

 

Vannozza, _cara_! Your voice on the phone sounded upset.

_I am upset, Uncle Tony. Thanks for letting me come over to see you._

Aunt Angie left some coffee and biscotti for you in my office and asked me to make sure you see her before you go.

_I wouldn’t dream of leaving without looking in on her._

So come into my office and sit down. _Perché stai sconvolto, Principessa?_ Is it Lucrezia? The baby?

_No, Uncle Tony. Lucrezia’s fine. She’s a bit tired, anxious for the baby to arrive, but everything is good, according to the doctor._

Ah. Thank God. And Cesare? Rodrigo?

_Nervous, as you would expect. But they’re doing okay._

Then what has you so upset?

_Oh, Uncle Tony. Where to begin? I need your help. For Lucrezia’s sake._

Tell me.

_Lucrezia is a wonderful girl. We all love her. But she has a mother I wouldn’t wish on a dog. Vickie is a terrible woman. Abused Lucrezia horribly when she was a little girl._

Abused her? How?

_She made Lucrezia do…things._

Vannozza, what are you saying? What things?

_Uncle Tony, I don’t want you to think badly of Lucrezia. She couldn’t help what her mother made her do. She was just a little girl…_

Tell me!

_She made Lucrezia sell her body to men. From the time she was thirteen years old._

_Cazzo!_ Her own mother! How could she?

_Vickie was a prostitute, and she forced Lucrezia to be one too. The child had no one to look to for help. What could she do?_

Where was her father?

_She doesn’t even know who her father is._

Poor _gattina_. But now she has Cesare and you and Rodrigo.  And the rest of the family.

_Yes, and she’s living a respectable life. She’s a good wife, a good daughter.  She’ll be a wonderful mother._

So what is the problem?

_Vickie. She’s been demanding a lot of money from Cesare ever since he married Lucrezia. Now, with the baby on the way, she called me from Watertown, New York where she lives and told me she wants two million dollars or she’s going to go to the newspapers and television tabloids and tell them all about Lucrezia’s past. Two million dollars or she’ll wreck her daughter’s life!_

Blackmail. Her own daughter. Unbelievable.

_It’s the kind of person she is._

So my _Principessa_ comes to me for help. Just like your mama used to do when she and I were kids. ‘Tony,' she’d say, ‘Someone is picking on me, stealing my lunch money.’ And I’d take care of it. Nobody would ever bother my baby sister again. You look so much like her. I miss her, Vannozza.

_We all do, Uncle Tony. She loved her big brother very much. She used to always tell me how you’d stick up for her, take care of her. You were the only one who was allowed to pull her pigtails._

She was a good girl. Like you. What can I do to help you with this Vickie?

_What would you recommend?_

Have you tried to reason with her?

_Of course. I wouldn’t be troubling you with this if I had been able to talk to her._

Does Cesare know?

_No, and I’m afraid of what he might do if he were to find out. Rodrigo is furious. It’s all I can do to restrain him from going to Watertown to confront her. He agreed to hold off until I talk to you._

Good that you came to me.

_What will you do, Uncle Tony?_

Don’t ask me that, _cara._ Better you don’t know. Just have faith that things will be handled. You won’t have any more trouble from that woman.

_Uncle Tony, I know you have certain…scruples. Maybe I’m asking too much of you to…um…deal with a woman._

Such an unnatural mother doesn’t deserve the consideration I would give to a woman. Write down her address for me and then ease your mind, _Tesoro_. Uncle Tony will take care of things. Now come give me a kiss and then we’ll go see your Aunt Angie.

 

Vannozza! How are things with Lucrezia and the _bambino_?

_All good, Aunt Angie. But we’ll all be glad when he’s safely here. Just a few more weeks._

What will they name him?

_Rodrigo, after his grandpa._

Ah! That’s nice. _Nonno_ must be pleased.

_He sure is, Aunt Angie._

Come over on Sunday. I’ll make lasagna for Cesare. Lucrezia can still leave the house, can’t she?

 _Oh, sure. She just can’t take long trips. And, forgive me, but she can’t drink any of your wine, Uncle Tony. Please don’t get mad. You know she loves your_ _Rosso. We all do. But the doctor says absolutely not. That’s the way it is nowadays. I don’t make the rules._

Never mind, Vannozza. Tony will get over it.  Just come for dinner.

_Thanks, Aunt Angie. We’d love to. I’ll bring some chocolate gelato._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cara -- Dear  
> Perché stai sconvolto, Principessa? -- Why are you upset, Princess?  
> Cazzo! -- Fuck!  
> Gattina -- Kitten  
> Tesoro -- Treasure  
> Bambino -- baby  
> Nonno -- Grandpa  
> Rosso -- Red


	8. Consciences And Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein consciences are troubled

Lying on his side in bed, snuggled against Lucrezia’s back, Cesare was drifting off to sleep when he felt her body begin to shake with her weeping. Forcing himself awake, he leaned over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Am I keeping you happy, Cesare? Am I enough for you, right now?”

He sighed inwardly. Why the hell did she always have to wait until he was just about asleep to ask this sort of question?

“What do you mean by ‘enough’?”

“I worry that you might be frustrated. You know, in bed. Because we can’t…”

“Because we can’t have good old-fashioned, missionary-position, traditional sex.”

“Well, yes.”

He gently caressed her belly. “Why are you so worried?”

“Something my mother said.”

“Ah. And what was that?”

“That you were liable to look elsewhere. Because I’ve gotten big. Because you aren’t being satisfied.”

“You make me very happy. I like what we’ve been doing.”

“Am I gross? Big?”

“Honey, you’re beautiful. A fertility goddess.”

He circled his arms around her and pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin.

“You know, it just occurred to me that you have definite ideas about what you think I want from you and you get really anxious and scared when you don’t feel you meet those expectations. But, Honey, I have to tell you, you’re the one who decided that’s how I want things. Those expectations only exist in your own mind. Considering your background, it’s understandable why you came to believe as you do. Lucrezia, you’re beautiful and sexy and you pamper me, and I appreciate that, make no mistake. But you don’t have to do a damn thing other than be yourself for me to love you. The responsibility for our marriage isn’t only on you. You have the right to expect things from me too. Am I making you happy in bed? Do I provide well enough for you? If I get a beer gut or go bald or suffer a financial loss, would you leave me?”

“Cesare!” Lucrezia’s voice was horrified. “That’s awful. I’d never do such a thing. What do you think I am?”

“The same goes for me. Have faith in me, Honey. In my love for you. I’m not some immature little twerp who’s here only as long as things are easy for me.”

“The ‘Summer Soldier.’”

“Exactly. Honey, it’s wonderful. We’re crazy about each other. We’re having a baby. Please try to let go of these notions which haunt you and are simply not valid.”

“You love me just for myself?”

“Always.”

She giggled and cuddled against his chest.

“Okay, then. You cook me breakfast in the morning.”

“Now, wait a minute…”

“You said...”

“Well, didn’t I just shoot myself in the foot?”

 

Cesare wrapped Lucrezia in a big bath towel and helped her out of the shower.

“Come on, Baby. I won’t let you fall.”

“Thank you. I’m having a bit of trouble negotiating these days. When I open the door, I hit myself in the tummy. If I drop something, I can’t bend over to pick it up. I forget what my feet look like.”

“They’re as cute as ever.”

“Mom and I are going out for pedicures today. What color polish should I get?”

“Chocolate. Yummy, suckable chocolate.”

“Oh, you. You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re adorable. You know, I really would have made you breakfast.”

“I know, but I wanted more than a piece of toast, Cesare.”

“I could have given you a bowl of cereal.”

“Never mind. You should be going. I don’t want to make you late for work.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. If I need help with anything, Mom will be here within the hour.”

“What a pair you two are. Sometimes I’m jealous. It seems as if you love my mother more than you love me.”

“Cesare!”

“Just kidding.”

 

Cesare and Lucrezia were loading the dishwasher after dinner when the intercom near the door buzzed. Cesare left the kitchen to answer the building doorman’s signal.

“What’s up, Marvin?”

“Mr. Borgia, there is a police detective here wanting to see Mrs. Borgia”

“What does a policeman want with my wife?”

“I don’t know, Sir. Will you speak to him?”

“Yes, sure. Hello, Detective. This is Cesare Borgia. Why do you want to talk to my wife?”

“Well, Mr. Borgia, my name is Detective Ellis Mason. The Watertown Police Department called my precinct and requested that we deliver some bad news. Mrs. Borgia’s mother was found dead in her home this afternoon.”

“ _What?_ Dead? How?”

“An autopsy is pending, but it appears to be natural causes. Most likely a heart attack.”

“Heart attack? Vickie is…was…not much more than forty years old.”

“That is only a preliminary opinion, Mr. Borgia. As I said, there will be an autopsy.”

“Well, come on up, then. But I have to ask you to be sensitive. My wife is pregnant.”

“I understand. I’ll be as tactful as possible.”

 

Vannozza’s phone chirped. Cesare’s voice on the line sounded muffled.

“Mom. Can you and Dad get over here? Now.”

“Oh, hi, Honey. Why are you whispering? What’s wrong?”

“Mom, there’s an emergency. A police detective is on his way up to our apartment to tell Lucrezia that her mother was found dead in her house today.”

“Oh, my God, Cesare! What happened?”

“Mom, please, just get here. Lucrezia will need us.”

“We’ll be right there.”

 

Vannozza put down the phone and turned to Rodrigo.

“That was Cesare calling. He wants us to go over right now to be with them. Rodrigo, it’s been…done.”

“When? How?”

“I don’t know. Cesare said that a police officer was on his way up to their apartment to deliver the news. That’s all he told me.”

“Well, what did Tony tell you?”

“Nothing. He told me he didn’t want me to know. Oh, Rodrigo, what have I done?”

“Darling, if you weren’t sure your conscience could handle this, you shouldn’t have set it in motion.”

“You left me no choice. You would have tried to do it yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to just stand idly by while that woman brought harm to my family.”

“I know. I thought it better that it be done by someone…experienced in such matters.”

“You were right.”

“But now we must go and try to comfort our Lucrezia, all the while knowing it was I who caused her mother’s death. I’m not sure I will even be able to look her in the eye.”

“Use your reason, Vannozza. Was there really any other option? Had we given in to Vickie’s blackmail, it would have been only the beginning. She’d have bled us dry. You know that.”

“I do. I do know that. But I can’t help feeling terrible for Lucrezia’s sake. She loved her mother in spite of the fact that her mother didn’t deserve it.”

“Vannozza, we should leave now. We can talk further in the car.”

 

Cesare’s face was grim when he opened the door to admit his parents into the apartment.

“Thanks for coming. As you can imagine, Lucrezia’s very upset. I’ve called her doctor but there isn’t a lot that can be done. He said to just try to keep her calm, but she hasn’t stopped crying since she heard about her mother.”

Rodrigo strode past Cesare, shouting, “Where’s my little girl? Come and let me hold you.”

Vannozza embraced her son.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I can’t honestly say I regret Vickie’s death, but I know how it must affect Lucrezia.”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m not sad that she’s gone either, but Lucrezia is just beside herself. Why, Mom? I don’t get it."

“Oh, Honey,” Vannozza replied. “She’s not just grieving for the mother she had, but the mother she wanted to have. Lucrezia was hoping the baby would bring them closer. Now Vickie is gone, and with her, all chance for a better relationship. It must feel like a crushing blow, to know that Vickie will never be more to her than she was.”

 

Cesare dispatched a lawyer to arrange for Vickie’s body to be brought from Watertown for interment among other Borgia family members in the Belle Haven cemetery. The coroner determined that she had suffered a pulmonary embolism and had been dead for several days before she was found. A letter carrier noticed that mail had piled up in her mailbox and called police.

 

Cesare had a brief obituary published in the newspaper. The Borgia family’s public relations spokesperson dealt with all media inquiries.

At the funeral, the church was filled with Borgia relatives and friends. Lucrezia clung to Cesare, weeping uncontrollably. Rodrigo and Vannozza hosted a dignified and subdued luncheon for the attendees, whom they gently discouraged from approaching Lucrezia.

Afterward, at her apartment, Vannozza dressed Lucrezia in her blue robe and tucked her into her bed. Cesare remained beside his wife until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

Vannozza sat across from her uncle in his office and grasped his gnarled hand.

“Thank you, Uncle Tony.”

“So your problem is resolved, _Principessa?_ Everything is better?”

“Mostly. I know Lucrezia is grieving, and I feel just awful about that. I hope in time she will get over it.”

“Once the baby is here, she will be happy again.”

“No doubt. If ever a mother didn’t deserve the love of her child, it was Vickie.”

“A bad woman. Good riddance.”

“Uncle Tony, did Vickie…suffer?”

“Vannozza _,_ don’t ask such questions. Don’t think about it. My men are the best. They do what they must, but they are not animals. Not sick in the head. They don’t cause unnecessary suffering.”

“I feel so guilty.”

“When you came to me for help, you knew what would happen. Are you now finding it difficult to live with the consequences of your actions?”

“It’s harder than I thought it would be, Uncle Tony.”

“You live a sheltered life, _Principessa._ You surround yourself with culture and gentility in your museums and art galleries. Perhaps you should have remained there, away from a reality that is often ugly and harsh.”

“How do you cope with it? The ugliness?”

“I accept it, _Tesoro._ Just as a coin has two sides, so life has two sides. I do what I must to take care of my family. To protect them. Angie’s conscience is untroubled because I am strong for her.”

“Have you done things on her behalf, Uncle Tony?”

“Angie is an old-fashioned woman. She keeps to her home, as our Lucrezia wants to do. But even so, unpleasantness sometimes finds its way to her. Some lowlife might accost her in the grocery store. A repairman might be insolent to her.”

“Are you saying that you would...?”

“I would teach them a lesson they should have learned long ago. An _appropriate_ lesson. I’m not a beast, Vannozza. Just a husband who looks after his family. That is what you and I did. Unfortunately, the only lesson that could be taught in this case was a very severe one. As time goes by and Lucrezia finds peace again, you will know you did the right thing.”

“Vickie really was a terrible person.”

“ _È vero_. Ease your mind. Lucrezia is safe now. Cesare is safe. Their baby is safe. Vickie can’t hurt them anymore.”

“You are so good to me, Uncle Tony.”

“You were always my _Principessa._ Like a daughter to me. Now, don’t worry. Come give your old Uncle Tony a kiss.”

“ _Mille baci, caro Zio_. And a thousand thanks.”

 

Cesare’s lawyer oversaw the sale of Vickie’s house and other property in Watertown and wrapped up all loose ends. Lucrezia, with the help of her psychiatrist, grappled anew with the Gordian knot of her torturous relationship with her mother and made progress. She began to smile again and to look forward to the birth of her son, which could occur at any time now.

 

Vannozza was just about to forbid her daughter-in-law from picking up a large basket of newly-washed clothes in the laundry room when Lucrezia froze.

“Mom, I think my water broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> È vero -- It's true  
> Mille baci, caro Zio -- A thousand kisses, dear Uncle


	9. Union Labor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein, despite their human failings, the family unites to bring about a momentous outcome

“Cesare, it’s Mom. I’m calling from the town car. Lucrezia is with me. Please round up your father and meet us at the hospital.”

“Mom! Is it…is it…time?”

“Yes. Lucrezia’s water broke. I’ve called the doctor and he said to get to the hospital right away. They’ll probably have to induce labor, and Lucrezia doesn’t want that until you’re there.”

“On our way.”

 

Lucrezia was clutching Vannozza’s hand when Cesare and Rodrigo burst into the birthing room.

“What’s happening? Honey, has your labor started yet?”

“No, Cesare. They want to induce, but I asked them to hold off until you got here.”

Vannozza squeezed Lucrezia’s hand.

“The baby has to be born today or else there could be infection or other complications. I’ll let the nurse know you’ve arrived.”

She rose and took Rodrigo’s arm, and they left the room.

Lucrezia locked eyes with Cesare.

“I’m scared, darling.”

“I am too, Baby.”

“Don’t leave me, please.”

“Not for a moment.”

“What if you have to pee?”

They both barked with nervous laughter.

 

Vannozza and Rodrigo retired to the waiting room. Lucrezia was given Pitocin and her labor began shortly thereafter. Cesare sat beside her bed in a hospital chair. The lighting in the birthing room was subdued, and the décor was stark and simple. In the corner stood a warming bassinet, awaiting the newborn. At first Lucrezia’s contractions were light enough that she managed to doze a bit between them.

She awoke from a short snooze to find Cesare napping, having pitched forward in his chair onto the side of the bed, leaning his head on his folded arms She smiled for a moment, recalling how he had fallen asleep beside her when they first met. As she had then, she now stroked his hair tenderly.

“I love you, Cesare,” she murmured softly.

“Wha…wha…?”

He stirred and looked around in confusion.

“What the hell…?”

“Cesare, I’m having the baby. We’re at the hospital. You and I were catching some Zs.”

“You were able to sleep?”

“On and off. Between contractions. The nurse told me I should try to rest as much as possible.”

“Um…I have to pee.”

 

“Breathe, Honey. Look at me. Breathe. Nice and slow, just like in the childbirth classes. One, two, three, four. That’s it. Ah. Contraction over.”

Cesare gently wiped Lucrezia’s face.

“You’re doing great, Baby.”

“You’re such a help to me, Cesare. I couldn‘t do this without you.”

“I’m here for you. How much longer do you think it will be?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, it’s been an hour and a half. It can’t be too much longer.”

“Um…”

 

“Cesare!”

“Wha…wha…?”

“You fell asleep again. I’m having our baby. How the hell can you sleep?”

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s been six hours now. I got up early this morning. I guess I’m tired.”

“Oh, and I’m not. I’ve just been lying here lounging and eating bon-bons. You’re supposed to help me.”

“Well, if I fall asleep again, how about you wake me up when you get a contraction?”

“Wake you up? You idiot! How am I supposed to do that? You sleep like a rock. And I’m sort of preoccupied when the contractions hit.”

“Well, I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”

“Act like you give a shit! I’m having our baby and you’re behaving like it doesn’t even interest you.”

Cesare’s chin drooped down onto his chest. Lucrezia’s eyes bugged.

“Cesare…Cesare…I can’t believe it. Now you even fall asleep while I’m talking to you. Wake up, you son of a bitch. Get the hell out of here. I can’t stand the sight of you sleeping in that chair while I’m in labor.”

“Honey…”

“Honey, nothing. Go get Mom.”

Looking sheepish, Cesare left the birthing suite and made his way to the obstetrical waiting room where his parents snapped to attention upon seeing him enter.

“Mom, Lucrezia wants you.”

“Cesare, did she kick you out?”

“Um…yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She was pissy.”

“She’s having a baby. Do you expect her to be Miss Manners?”

“No, but what does she expect of me?”

“Oh, boy! I have a pretty good idea why she wanted you gone. I’d better hurry and go to her.”

“Thanks. I’ll hang out here with Dad.”

 

Three hours passed. The obstetrical resident examined Lucrezia and pronounced her fully dilated.

“Lucrezia, let me go and call Cesare. The doctor said the baby will soon be here.”

“No! The hell with him, Mom. He couldn’t be bothered to be with me during the preliminaries. I don’t want him here now.”

“Sweetie, he would have been with you, but you threw him out of the room.”

“Because he kept falling asleep! He doesn’t even care enough to stay awake when his son is being born.”

“He cares, Lucrezia. He really does. Let me go and get him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“Fine, but only if you promise to come back too. And bring Dad.”

“Of course, if that’s what you want. I’ll be right back.”

 

Both Cesare and Rodrigo were snoring, sprawled out on sofas in the waiting room when Vannozza rushed to collect them. She huffed an irritated sigh _(No wonder Lucrezia got pissed.)_ and shook Cesare’s shoulder.

“Wha…wha?”

“If you want to see your child come into the world, wake the hell up. Now!”

“I have to pee.”

“Well, hold it, you jackass! Rodrigo! Wake up. Lucrezia needs you.”

Rodrigo shook himself awake.

“Huh? Me? Why me?”

“Damn if I know. But she wants you with her, so get going!”

“Vannozza, stop being so goddam bossy.”

“Bossy? Me? Well, someone has to take charge here. You and your son are about as worthless as cat shit and…”

Cesare left his parents arguing in the waiting room and ran to Lucrezia’s side.

 

“Cesare. My darling. I’m glad you’re here. I need you.”

Lucrezia held her arms out to her husband, who rushed to her.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I fell asleep before.”

“You’re here now.”

“I’d have been here the whole time, only you threw me out.”

“Because you fell asleep!”

“Not now, please,” the doctor interrupted. “We have a baby coming, and he isn’t going to wait while you two bicker. Now, Cesare, please help your wife to sit up. She needs to push.”

Cesare, his face pale and anxious, gently supported Lucrezia into position. Vannozza and Rodrigo, having just arrived in the birthing room, stood on either side at the head of her bed and clutched her hands as she pushed her baby into the world. The infant emerged smoothly, easily, crying loudly, and the obstetrician laid him on his mother’s stomach while the rest of the family exclaimed in joy and exchanged hugs.

“Is he all right?” Lucrezia gasped.

“Your son is fine and healthy,” the obstetrician assured her. “Congratulations.”

Lucrezia covered the baby’s back with her gentle hand, and Cesare placed his hand over hers. The child stopped wailing.

“He’s beautiful, Lucrezia,” Cesare murmured, his voice breaking. “I love you.”

He bent and kissed his wife’s lips. She caressed his cheek.

“I love you too, my darling. Mom, Dad, thanks for being here with me.”

A tearful Vannozza kissed Lucrezia’s forehead.

“Thanks for letting us share this moment. We wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“Daddy,” Lucrezia turned her head to her father-in-law. “We’re naming him after you. Rodrigo the Second. Is that okay with you?”

“I couldn’t be happier.” Weeping with joy, he bent and kissed Lucrezia’s cheek. “I’m so honored. I love you, my little girl.”

 

Lucrezia went home from the hospital with Roddie the next day. Cesare nervously buckled the baby into his car seat.

“You look like a father,” Lucrezia said with a smile.

“Do I? I feel like I’m all thumbs. Have no idea what I’m doing. I can’t believe they’re permitting me to take the two of you home.”

“I don’t feel qualified, either, but one of the nurses assured me that babies are a lot more resilient than they look. She said to just trust our instincts and things would be fine.”

“I hope they’re right.”

“And we have Mom and Dad to help us. Look how well you turned out.”

“Um…sure. Okay. I’m glad they’re going to stay with us for a few days until we get settled.”

 

Lucrezia sat in her antique rocking chair, nursing the baby while Vannozza fondly looked on.

“Mom, it’s sad that Roddy won’t know his maternal grandmother, but, in all honesty, I think it’s better that he doesn’t. I doubt she would have been all that fond of him anyway.”

“That would have been her loss, Lucrezia. But it doesn’t have to be Roddy's. We can tell him things about her. How excited she was for his birth. How she would have doted on him. The songs she would have sung to him, and the games she would have played with him. He deserves that.”

“You mean tell him lies about her?”

“No, Sweetie. Not lies. Who knows? Maybe she would have felt and done all those things. Why not give the benefit of the doubt?”

Lucrezia smiled at her mother-in-law.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.”

 

**_Item in the society column of the morning paper:_ **

_It was Guys Day Out yesterday as three generations of men from the distinguished Borgia investment banking family went for an airing on a warm spring morning. Grandpa Rodrigo, proudly pushing a Bugaboo stroller along the sidewalk, was all smiles as he presented his namesake, an adorable six-month-old infant who is Daddy Cesare’s Mini-Me. Grandma and Mommy were occupied getting mani-pedis at the chic L’Image salon. No doubt Lucrezia will be sporting her smashing trademark chocolate nail polish in her Jimmy Choos._


	10. Domestic Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein are depicted assorted scenes of marital and familial contentment before it hits the fan

Propped up on her elbow, Lucrezia lay beside her sleeping husband and contemplated his face, breathtaking in repose, rendered radiant by the moonlight shining through the window. That face. That beautiful, fine-boned face with pale skin and a scruff of dark beard growth highlighting the square jawline and deeply cleft chin. The face that had galvanized her the first time she saw it, stunning her, momentarily knocking her off her practiced equilibrium. Such an expressive face, with its arresting green eyes and mobile mouth, which sometimes stretched into a dorky, awkward grin or tightened into a hard line when he was displeased. (although, thankfully, never displeased with her). She had seen that face in so many moods, so many scenarios, but he had certain special expressions just for her. There was the tender, affectionate look he gave her so often; the helpless guffaw when he had seen her do something he considered to be wildly funny; the protective, proud, noble face he wore when he watched her in her rocking chair, nursing Roddy. And there was the mask of desire his face became when he approached her with lust in his belly. His nostrils flared and his eyelids lowered, and his chin came forward. She thought then of bulls, of stags, of stallions. Of overwhelming masculine life force that would not, could not be contained. She shivered at the memory and lowered her head onto his bare chest. Perhaps it was only a reflex, but Cesare’s arm came up to encircle her and she snuggled closer to him, lightly kissing his nipple. She had not meant to awaken him with her gesture but was fully and frankly delighted when, although his eyes remained closed, his lips stretched into a sly smile and, moving suddenly, he flipped her over onto her back.

 

Cesare awoke shortly after dawn. Sleepily reaching for Lucrezia, he was momentarily perplexed not to find her beside him in bed. Glancing around, he found her sitting across the room in her rocking chair, feeding Roddy.

“Hey,” he called softly.

“Hey,” she replied with a gentle smile.

“What does that feel like?”

“What?”

“A baby…you know…sucking.”

“Not like you, my darling.”

 

The warm perfume of Lucrezia’s body intoxicated Cesare’s senses as he caressed her in bed.

“I love you, Woman. I want you. Now.”

He covered her lips with his, delighting in feeling her arms tighten around him.

“Wah! Waaaaahhh!”

Cesare flopped back onto his pillow.

“Aw, goddammit!”

“Darling, I’ll try to get him back to sleep as soon as I can.”

As Lucrezia crossed the room to Roddy’s crib, Cesare cursed under his breath. The most effective form of birth control ever, he concluded, was to have a baby. After that, the parents would never be able to have sex again.

 

Cesare, balancing Roddy on his lap, leaned back into the big overstuffed easy chair he preferred when sitting in the television room of his apartment and brought up the footrest.

“We have to be quiet, Little Man,” he whispered to his son. “I promised Mommy I’d take care of you while she has a nap. Truthfully, you’ve been running her ragged, and she deserves a break. So we’re gonna hang out together and watch a Jackie Chan movie. Mommy says we’re not allowed to have beer, so I guess it’s cola for me and this bottle for you. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Mommy made it up for you special from her own milk. It’ll be okay. I’ll give you some applesauce too. I know, I’d rather have a pizza too, but for now, we’re stuck with applesauce. Mommy’s rules. Can’t fight it.”

Roddy’s eyes, exactly like his own, twinkled as he laughed, making his father smile back at him.

Using the remote to turn on the television, Cesare settled in, cuddling Roddy against his chest.

“You’re going to like this movie. Trust me.”

The sound of the bedroom door quietly opening caused Cesare to glance up over Roddy’s head. Lucrezia, in a dressing gown, glided barefoot over to the sofa.

“Lucrezia. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I napped.”

“Barely half an hour. What’s the matter, honey? Can’t you stay asleep?”

“I guess not.”

“Were you worried that I wouldn’t take proper care of Roddy? You can see he’s just fine. I didn’t give him beer or pizza. I even changed his diaper and didn’t stick him with a pin.”

Cesare got up and moved himself and the baby, who had begun to fuss at the sight of his mother, over to the sofa beside Lucrezia.

“Lay your head in my lap and stretch out. I’ll put Roddy down beside you on one of his waterproof pads and you can feed him till he falls asleep. Okay? I’m not a complete klutz. You can trust me.”

Lucrezia smiled gratefully.

“I know I can.”

Cesare stroked Lucrezia’s soft nimbus of golden hair as she contentedly gave her breast to the baby. After a short time, his tummy full, snug in the warmth of his mother’s body next to him, Roddy slumbered.

“Now you, my lady,” Cesare coaxed softly.

Lucrezia sighed and dozed off.

Cesare sat still with Lucrezia’s head in his lap until his leg went to sleep. Then he eased himself out from under her and went to the kitchen. He got a beer from the refrigerator as he dialed the number to order a pizza.

 

Roddy lay on his back on a blanket spread out on the carpet in the living room while his father sprawled next to him, blowing raspberries on his round tummy, making the baby squeal with delight and kick his plump little legs.

Cesare, laughing, stood and scooped Roddy up in his arms.

“Let’s go see what Mommy is doing.”

Lucrezia was having one of her ‘Annapurna’ moments, as her husband called them. Busy in the kitchen, a goddess presiding over her culinary domain, she was gyrating to thumping rock music from her CD player as she prepared dinner. Cesare, with Roddy bouncing on his hip, approached her and joined her in her dance, then pulled her, giggling and breathless, into his embrace.


	11. Domestic Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the passing of a torch ignites a firestorm

“I wish Uncle Tony and Aunt Angie would come to our apartment so I could cook for them, for a change,” Lucrezia said to Vannozza in the town car as they rode to visit their beloved relatives for lunch.

“I do too, Sweetie, but they simply will not leave their house. Aunt Angie doesn’t like to go out much, except to grocery shop and go to church. There’s no changing her mind.”

“But she always insists upon cooking a big, elaborate meal. I hate to put her to all that trouble.”

“She wouldn’t have it any other way, believe me. I used to feel bad about all the fuss Aunt Angie goes to when we visit, but that’s what she wants to do. That’s how she shows her love.”

“What can we do in return?”

“Visit her. Call her. Just what you have been doing. She loves talking to you. She’s so thrilled when you phone her. She always lets me know. ‘Lucrezia called me up today and we talked for half an hour,’ she says to me. You make her feel important.”

“She is important, Mom. I just love her.”

“You dressed Roddy up so nicely. He looks adorable in that little sailor suit.”

“I hope Aunt Angie approves. She always frets that I don’t put those hard-soled white shoes on him. She’s sure he’ll never learn to walk.”

“She was the same when Cesare was a baby. I always let him go barefoot at home and put him in cushy sneakers to go out. And somehow, he learned to walk just fine. I couldn’t bring myself to confine his little feet in those old-fashioned shoes. They remind me of Iron Maidens.”

“Me too. Roddy is doing great. He’s pulling himself up already and will be standing on his own very soon. I’m sure of it.”

“Aunt Angie said that Tony Junior will be there today. Probably because his wife kicked him out again. I hate to say this, but my cousin is an idiot.”

Lucrezia gasped and stared, open-mouthed, at Vannozza.

“Why, Mom, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say something negative about anyone. It says a lot more about Tony Junior than it does about you.”

 

In addition to Tony Junior, another visitor had come to Aunt Angie’s house.

“My _Principessa_ ,” Tony Senior had crooned, embracing his niece. “So glad to see you. Come and meet Micheletto, who works for me.”

A tall redheaded man of indeterminable age, with a spare, lean physique and sharp, angular face, bent over Vannozza’s hand to kiss it.

“I am honored, Donna Vannozza,” he murmured, gracefully courtly and formal.

“I’m happy to meet you, Micheletto,” she replied. “Let me introduce my daughter-in-law, Lucrezia, and grandson, Roddy.”

Micheletto bowed.

“Madame. A pleasure.”

Aunt Angie shooed everyone to the vast dining table. With Vannozza’s help, she served lunch, an immense assortment of dishes which she had spent all morning preparing.

“Aunt Angie,” Lucrezia exclaimed. “You do too much. You’re too good to us.”

“Nothing is too good for my _famiglia_. You brought the _Bambino_. He looks just like his papa, doesn’t he, Junior?”

Junior, a crew-cut hulk with oafish deportment and thick, blunt fingers, dunked a wedge of bread into his small plate of olive oil and herbs.

“I guess so, Ma. I haven’t seen Cesare in awhile.”

Uncle Tony snorted.

“We see him more than we see you. We see little Roddy more than we see your Angelina and Natalia.”

“Tony,” Aunt Angie’s tone was a warning. “Not now. We’re eating.”

Vannozza smiled nervously, hoping to break the tension which had settled on the diners.

“Shall I say grace?”

While everyone dug into lunch, Uncle Tony spoke warmly of Micheletto.

“I’m planning on retiring soon, and Micheletto is going to take over my business for me. I wanted him to meet my _Principessa_. And Lucrezia and the baby. I’m entrusting them to your care, Micheletto. Keep them safe. As if they were your own.”

Micheletto humbly nodded his head to the women.

“I am always at your service, ladies. Please call upon me at any time.”

Tony Junior’s face burned.

“You know, Pop, I coulda handled things just fine. You coulda trusted me.”

Angie put her gnarled hand on her son’s forearm.

“Not now, my boy. Not at the table. Talk to Papa later.”

“All I ever wanted,” Junior continued, as if his mother had not spoken, “All I ever wanted was for you to be proud of me, Pop.” His voice rose to a whine. “How come you don’t trust me? Why did you pass me over for… _him_?”

Uncle Tony slammed his hand down, making everyone jump.

“ _Basta!_ You have no manners. You sit at your mother’s table and air your grievances in the presence of our guests and you whimper like a little girl. You’re not a man. I could never hand over my business to you. Go to your wife and beg her to let you come home. Get out of my sight.”

“Tony,” Aunt Angie began, but then fell silent. She watched as her son rose, his countenance red with humiliation and rage.

“This ain’t over, Pop.”

He stomped from the room. Soon the slam of the back door was heard.

“ _Scusa._ ” Uncle Tony shook his head. “Please. Let’s finish our lunch. Angie, thank you for this meal.”

Micheletto quivered with perturbation, but, respectful of Uncle Tony and of the occasion, remained silent, staring down at his plate.

Roddy, sensing the tension among his family, began to fuss. Lucrezia stood.

“I think he’s hungry. I’ll go and feed him.”

 

Uncle Tony sent the town car driver away.

“Micheletto will take you home,” he told Vannozza. “I want you to get acquainted with each other.”

Micheletto struck Vannozza as the silent type, but, seated next to him in the front seat of Uncle Tony’s Cadillac, she tried making conversation.

“Uncle Tony must think a lot of you to make you his successor.”

“I am flattered by the Don’s confidence in me.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“Since I was a boy. Nearly twenty-five years.”

“What do you do for him?”

“Oh, whatever is needed. A little of this, a little of that. He’s a great leader. I would do anything for him. He honors me by entrusting his family to my care. Be assured, you will always have my protection.”

“Protection from what, Micheletto?”

“From anything and everything that may trouble you, Donna Vannozza. You or any member of your family.”

Vannozza’s brow furrowed. Micheletto had meant to reassure her, yet all he had done was make her uneasy.

 

Lucrezia wheeled Roddy in his stroller to the park for a ride on the baby swings.

“We’re not going to stay too long,” she told the child. “The sun is getting too hot. I don’t want you to be burned.”

She was so charmed by Roddy’s laughter as she pushed him on the swing that she didn’t notice the man until he was right behind her.

“Donna Lucrezia,” he growled in her ear. “I must ask you and your child to come with me.”

Lucrezia froze in fear.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

“Please ask no questions, Madame. Neither you nor your boy will come to harm. But you must come with me now.”

“Where are you taking us?”

The man, burly and strong, caught her arm in a tight grip that made her gasp.

“No questions. You must come now.”

“Don’t hurt my baby. I beg you.”

“I mean you no harm. Walk with me to the black van parked at the curb.”

“Please let me call my husband. He’ll be worried if…”

“In good time, Donna Lucrezia.”

 

Cesare’s voice was just short of frantic.

“Mom, are Lucrezia and Roddy with you?”

“No, honey. I talked to her this morning and she told me she was taking Roddy to the park around 10:30.”

“I just got home from work and she and the baby aren’t here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“Oh, my God!”


	12. Pagliacci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Uncle Tony takes charge

Cesare wanted to call the police, but Vannozza persuaded him to first let her call Uncle Tony.

“I know, _Tesoro_.” His voice was lulling. “I know all about it. Don’t worry. They are safe.”

“You know?” Vannozza practically screamed it. “You know they went missing and you didn’t tell us?”

“It needed to play itself out. Trust me. They were never in danger.”

“I must let Cesare know immediately.”

“He knows. I just called him. Micheletto has gone to get him.”

“Where are Lucrezia and the baby, Uncle Tony?” Vannozza spoke slowly, deliberately, so that speech would not fail her.

“Safe. Under my protection. I’ll send them home as soon as certain things are dealt with.”

“What things? _What things_ , Uncle Tony?”

“I can’t tell you now.”

“Where is Micheletto taking Cesare?”

“Where I need him to be. Things are under control. Don’t worry. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

 

“Don Cesare. Your uncle wishes you to go with me.”

“Call me ‘Cesare’, Micheletto. Lucrezia and the baby…are they okay?”

“They are both fine. No harm has come to them.”

“Where are they? Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.”

“Please know that at no time was your family in danger. My men were following them at all times.”

“Micheletto. What the fuck happened?”

“Your mother’s cousin, Antonio Junior, ordered Donna Lucrezia and the baby to be kidnapped.”

“Why, for Christ’s sake?”

“When he was not appointed as the new head of Don Antonio’s organization, he conspired with a few thugs to force his father to reconsider by kidnapping someone dear to him. Fortunately, one of the men that Antonio Junior enlisted in his scheme was actually loyal to the Don and told him of the plan. It was that man who went through the motions of abducting your wife and son. He took them to a place of safety instead of to where Junior and his cohorts were waiting. A group of the Don’s men overpowered them there and took them prisoner.”

“Why wasn’t I told about Junior’s intentions? I could have protected my family.”

“Pardon, Cesare, but these men, although misguided, can be dangerous. Don Antonio put your entire family under protective surveillance as soon as he knew of the plan. He knew that if you were aware of it, you would want to take action, and he was concerned that someone would get hurt. He intends to deal with the miscreants, and he wants to give you the opportunity to take part in that. We are on our way now to meet with the Don as he deals out justice.”

“Justice? What do you mean, justice?”

“The Don will decide what is to be done.”

 

Micheletto drove to a warehouse on the outskirts of town.

“Are Lucrezia and Roddy here, Micheletto?”

“Not here, Cesare. Nearby.”

“Then what are we doing here? Take me to my family.”

“In due time. Don Antonio wants to see you first.”

Cesare strode into the cavernous building at double quick time. Uncle Tony met him just inside the door and caught him in a bear hug.

“Cesare. My boy. I am so sorry about this.”

“Where are Lucrezia and the baby? What the fuck is going on?”

“Didn’t Micheletto tell you?”

“He told me some story about Tony Junior plotting to kidnap them to extort you.”

“Yes. It’s the sad truth. My own son. My blood. We stopped it. Your wife and son were never in danger. My man took them under his protection. I knew Junior would try something terrible when I did not name him my successor, so I had one of my men pretend to defect to him so he could spy for me. But I did not dream he would be capable of such infamy as this. I am ashamed that I raised such an animal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? My God, Uncle Tony, my wife and baby…”

“I know. I know. You are a man. You would have tried to defend your family, and you might have gotten hurt. Or gotten them hurt. These are very bad men. You do not have the experience needed to handle them. But I do, and I have them here, awaiting justice.”

“What are you going to do, Uncle Tony?”

“What must be done. Just as a rabid dog cannot be tolerated, so I cannot allow such men in my organization. Disloyal men. Terrible men. Men who would lay rough hands upon an innocent woman and child.”

“Uncle Tony. Are you saying that you intend to kill them?”

“I intend to put down rabid dogs.”

“Tony Junior? Your own son?”

“I no longer call him my son. He has forfeited that. Forgive me, Cesare. I know this was hell for you, but I had to allow this ugly thing to play out so that my wife could see for herself the kind of man her Junior really is. So that she cannot make excuses for him or deny his actions. Her heart is broken. She is sick and ashamed over his behavior. But come. You are the husband and father. Your family has been wronged. I offer you vengeance.”

“Vengeance? What do you mean?”

“Will you yourself mete out justice to the men who would have harmed your family? Your beautiful wife? Your little son? You deserve the right to punish them.”

“Uncle Tony, surely the police…the courts…”

“That is not our way, my boy. Those men knew the risk they took when they played the turncoat."

“Uncle Tony. I can’t…I can’t…I’m not a murderer.”

“Neither am I, Cesare. I am a just man. These _bastardi_ have shown what they are and cannot be allowed to exist. If you do not wish to take vengeance with your own hand, so be it. But they will be disposed of in any case.”

“Please, Uncle Tony. Don’t do this. It’s wrong.”

“What they did was wrong. They must pay.”

“Agreed. But that is why we have courts. Due process.”

“They have had their due process.”

“Your own son!”

“I told you. He is no longer my son. I never taught him to do such vile things.”

“But you did, Uncle Tony. You did. With your example. You showed him with your violent ways…”

Uncle Tony slapped Cesare across the face.

“How dare you! What do you know about anything? You live in your nice, clean, safe world with your statistics and your investments and your balance sheets. What do you know about the real world? About getting your hands dirty to protect your family? Your mother, my _Principessa_. To whom did she come when your wife’s mother proved troublesome? To me, that’s who! To Uncle Tony.”

“What?

“Your mother-in-law. She threatened to go to the papers and tell all about Lucrezia’s past if she wasn’t given two million dollars. Vannozza asked for my help. She didn’t look down her nose at my ways then.”

“You…you killed Vickie?”

“I did what was necessary to protect my family.”

“You killed Vickie,” Cesare repeated, stunned. “My mother got you to kill Vickie.”

“It wasn’t the first time I helped her. When your father needed capital to start a business, he wasn’t above taking Uncle Tony’s dirty money. You’ve been living very well on it all your life. How dare you criticize me? Put yourself above me?”

“I…I didn’t know. I knew nothing of this.”

“Your mother wanted to shield you. To keep you untainted. Away from my business. I told her to stop coddling you like a baby. You are a man. You should know the truth. Even if you remained outside the organization, you should know about it.”

“I knew, Uncle Tony. I always knew. But I never really thought about exactly what it meant.”

“You don’t need to. Live your life the way you will. But never tell me how to live mine. How to conduct my affairs.”

“If Junior was sorry for his actions, if he told you he was sorry, could you forgive him?”

“He’s not sorry.”

“Can I see him? Talk to him?”

It won’t do any good, but if that is your wish…”

Cesare jerked his hand away when Micheletto held out to him a Smith & Wesson Model 29 revolver with an 8 3/8 inch barrel.

“Fuck, Micheletto! I don’t want this. I’ve never even fired a gun.”

“Take it, Cesare,” Uncle Tony said flatly. “For my peace of mind, I want you armed. Even though these rebels are under guard, they can still be dangerous.”

“Is this thing loaded?”

“Oh, yes,” Micheletto assured him. “Fully loaded. I saw to it myself.”

“It looks like a goddam cannon. What should I do with it?”

“Be careful.”

“Cesare, Micheletto,” Uncle Tony directed. “Stay out of sight but within earshot while I go in and talk to these lowlifes. There are some things I want to say to them.”

 

In a windowless back room of the warehouse, Junior and his two cohorts, their faces bruised and bleeding, were tightly bound to hard wooden chairs and guarded by several heavily-armed soldiers loyal to Uncle Tony. The prisoners jerked their heads up when the Don entered the room and addressed them.

“It is time for you to pay for your crimes. You would have raised your hands against a woman and a baby. You don’t deserve to live.”

“Don Antonio,” one of the men began, “Have mercy. I was wrong. Forgive me. I’ll never do such a thing again.”

“Shut up, asshole!” Junior snapped. “Nobody forced you to join up with me. You were only too happy to jump at the prospect of getting paid better. Anyway, the Old Man’s not gonna do nothing. I’m his own son. My mother would never forgive him if he hurt me.”

“Yeah, you’re his son, but I’m not. I was stupid, Don Antonio. But I wised up. Have mercy.”

“Junior, why? Just tell me why you did this.” Uncle Tony spread his hands, palms up, in a questioning gesture.

“Why? Because I tried my whole life to earn your trust and your respect. I busted my ass being your loyal son and what was my reward? Passed over for that little weasel, Micheletto. How come you can trust him, and not me, your own flesh and blood?”

“You are a fool, that’s why. This scheme of yours…reckless, insane. You would have laid hands on your own kin, and a woman and a baby at that.”

“You wouldn’t listen to me. I had to do something drastic to get your attention.”

“You condemn yourself out of your own mouth. Even if you had proved trustworthy up to now, this action would have caused me to disqualify you as my successor.”

“So what now?”

“Now? Now, you answer for your crime.”

“Bullshit. You could never look Ma in the eye again if you were to…”

Uncle Tony beckoned and Cesare and Micheletto came forward from the shadows where they had been concealed.

“What the fuck is this, Pop?” Tony Junior snarled. “You bring the pretty boy here and give him a gun? What for?”

Uncle Tony spat on the floor.

“Shut up. Cesare is entitled to exact vengeance against you. You tried to harm his family. You are all dogs, mangy curs. You are not men.”

“You say I ain’t a man. What about him? Mr. Ivy League with his designer suits. He don’t know shit about guns. He’s more liable to shoot his own cock off.”

“Junior,” Cesare began. “Why? Why did you do this? What did we ever do to you?”

“Nothing. That’s just it. You’re nothing to me, you fucking Tinkerbell. Pop says I ain’t even a man, but what are you, with your long hair and your sissy-ass office job? You wouldn’t survive five minutes out on the street. You flit around my father like the fairy you are and, oh, he just loves you. Thinks you and your cunt mother and your cunt wife are the shit.”

“Shut up,” Cesare bellowed. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Your wife is a cunt. I know about her. A couple of my guys knew her real well, Cousin. They had a lotta good laughs when they saw her picture in the paper for your wedding announcement. Hey, that’s Nikki, the whore who…”

The crack of the gun made everyone’s ears ring.

Cesare stood, staring, his legs locked, his arm extended, blue smoke swirling around him. Junior was slumped forward in his chair, his face a mangled, bloody blob.

“Madre di Dio!” Uncle Tony shouted. “What have you done?”

Micheletto approached Cesare from the side and took the gun from his trembling hand.

“I...I don’t know. I didn’t mean to. He...he…He just…”

“We have to get you out of here, Cesare. Now.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Tony. I didn’t know what I was doing. What he said about my family…”

“I know, my boy. You took your vengeance. As any man would have. You did right.”

“Aunt Angie. How can I ever face her again?”

“She doesn’t need to know what happened here. We will tell her one of his cohorts quarreled with Junior and turned on him and killed him. They are without honor. She will believe us.”

“What about his men?”

“They will share his fate. We will make an end of it here and now.”

“I’ve killed a man. I’m a murderer.”

“You are the hand of justice. You have nothing to fear. We know how to take care of these things. Raphael.” Uncle Tony gestured to one of the armed men guarding the prisoners. “Take my nephew to collect his wife and son and then see them home. Return here as soon as you can.”

“Uncle Tony.” Cesare had begun to shake. “I’m so sorry…”

“No need. You did what any man would. Go to your wife now. Take her home.”

As Raphael hustled him through the warehouse door, Cesare jumped when he heard two more gunshots ring out behind him.

Micheletto lowered his Beretta 92C and turned to the Don. His voice resonated with admiration when he said, “You were right, Don Antonio. You knew just how this would play out. How everyone would play out their part.”

“Of course. I knew my son would be too cocky and stupid to resist taunting Cesare, and I knew how my hothead nephew would react if I put a gun in his hand. So my problem with Junior is solved, and you and I can look Angie in the eye and say we had nothing to do with his demise. We don’t need to worry about Cesare turning himself in to the police. His wife’s fine body will quiet his conscience. He won’t do anything that might take him away from her and his son.”

“I am not ready to take over your organization. I will never have your understanding of people.”

“You’re ready, my boy. And I will be here to advise you.”

Micheletto dropped to one knee and kissed the Don’s hand.

“You have been like a father to me. I am your loyal son.”

“A much better son that that piece of shit over there. I am sorry that his mother will grieve for him, but I will not. Not for a moment. Now, let’s dispose of this garbage and go home. It’s been a good night’s work.”


	13. A Piece Of Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cesare's conscience struggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! 
> 
> Hamlet Act 2, Scene 3

Just outside the warehouse, Cesare froze in his tracks and bent over, retching miserably. Embarrassed, Raphael remained silent, looking away. When Cesare stood, Raphael handed him a snowy-white handkerchief from his own pocket.

“Don’t feel bad, Don Cesare. The first time is always difficult.”

Cesare wiped his mouth with the handkerchief.

“Have you ever killed a man, Raphael?”

“I am a soldier in the service of Don Antonio. Sometimes, in battle, one must do his honorable duty.”

“I’m not a soldier. Just an idiot with a temper and a gun.”

“You did the right thing, Don Cesare. Junior would have done harm to your family. He insulted your wife and mother. Any man who is a man would have done as you did.”

“I killed my uncle’s son!”

“Junior was not the kind of son to make a father proud, I’m sorry to say. He would have come to a bad end one way or another.”

“But I committed a terrible crime.”

“There is no need for you to bear a guilty conscience, Don Cesare. You put down a rabid animal. Don Antonio will see to everything.”

"What now, Raphael? What happens now?”

“You go home, Don Cesare. You take your wife and child home.”

“As if nothing had happened? I shot a man! I have to go to the police and turn myself in.”

“That would be unwise, Don Cesare. That is not our way. As I said, the Don will see to everything. You need concern yourself with this no more.”

“But…”

“What good would it do to go to the police? Deprive your wife of her husband. Your little son of his father. They would be cast into the world without your protection. Surely you don’t want that.”

“No, I…”

“Of course you don’t. We pride ourselves upon being civilized. Of clinging to the rule of law. Of letting others carry out our dirty work. Don Cesare, have you ever asked yourself what kind of man you truly are? Have you not ever wondered if, should the situation arise, you could defend your family? Kill to defend your family? Well, now you know. Yes, you can do it. Be proud of yourself. You are a man.”

Cesare fell silent, his brow deeply furrowed, and pondered Raphael’s words.

 

Raphael drove to a small, nondescript house about two miles from the warehouse and pulled into the driveway. Cesare leaped out of the car even before it came to a complete halt and raced to the front door of the dwelling. A bulky man in shirtsleeves, wearing a handgun in a shoulder holster admitted him. He called out his wife’s name and she came rushing from a bedroom, carrying Roddy.

“Cesare,” she cried, and flung herself into his arms.

“It’s all right now, Baby,” he murmured to her, holding her close. Squashed between his parents, Roddy began to squirm and protest. Cesare released his tight grip on Lucrezia and stepped back, taking the baby from her.

“Let’s go home, darling,” she begged.

The men who had been guarding them gathered up Roddy’s diaper bag and stroller and carried them out to Raphael’s car, placing them in the trunk.

 

Cesare spoke very little on the ride home. He held Lucrezia and Roddy in his arms and struggled to keep himself from shaking.

He hovered over Lucrezia while she gave the baby a bath and dressed him in comfortable sleepwear, then nursed him until he fell asleep. After she had placed Roddy in his crib, she took Cesare by the hand and led him to the living room. She sat on the sofa and he dropped down with his head in her lap. She stroked his hair and was astounded when she heard him begin to cry.

“Cesare, darling. What? What is it?”

“Oh, God, Lucrezia! I’ve done something awful.”

“Whatever could you have done that was so bad? You, of all people?”

“I’m afraid to tell you.”

“Just say it, dearest. Just get it out.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Lucrezia, I…I shot a man tonight. I killed Tony Junior.”

“Cesare! Your cousin? You killed your cousin? How? How did it happen?”

Haltingly, Cesare narrated the events of the evening. When he was finished, he sat up and searched Lucrezia’s face.

“Uncle Tony gave you a gun, Cesare?”

“Yes. A huge one.”

“Knowing that you had no experience with firearms.”

“Yes. He said that Junior and his men were dangerous.”

“Tied up and under heavy guard, they were still dangerous?”

“Well, that’s what Uncle Tony told me.”

“Cesare, darling, I think Uncle Tony set you up. He wanted you to kill Junior.”

“No. Impossible!”

“Think, darling. Uncle Tony didn’t like his son. He probably wanted to be rid of him, but he didn’t dare do anything himself because of Aunt Angie. So he got you to do it for him. He knew you would be furious with Junior because of what he tried to do, so he gave you a gun and let things play out just as he expected they would.”

“He used me?”

“Yes.”

“He told me he would tell Angie that one of Junior’s men fought with him and killed him.”

“So let that be the way it happened. Everyone’s satisfied.”

“Baby, I killed a man. I’m a murderer.”

“You’re a man who defended his family. Killed a rabid dog.”

“Lucrezia…”

Her breathing began to grow faster.

“You killed the man who would have harmed your child. Your wife. You protected us. Me.”

Her breath was quick and shallow and her eyes glittered. She ran her hands over Cesare’s chest and shoulders.

“You killed for me. You did that. For me.”

“Honey, it wasn’t quite like that…”

“You killed the man who would have hurt Roddy and me. You. You did that. For me.”

He crushed his mouth to hers. She sucked his lower lip and rubbed her hand over his crotch.

“I defended my family, Lucrezia. I protected my woman.”

“Yes.”

He tugged at her clothes, delirious with lust.

“You’re mine, Lucrezia. Mine. My woman.”

“Yes.”

“You belong to me. Only me.”

“Yes. Only you. No one but you.”

She made no move to help him undress. He wanted no help. He tugged her to her feet and yanked her into his embrace, cupping her backside to press her pelvis against his.

“I’ll fuck you,” he breathed into her ear. “I’ll fuck you hard.”

“Yes, Cesare. Yes.”

“Nobody but me. Ever. Nobody touches you but me.”

“Only you.”

“Mine.”

He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, putting her down beside the bed. He embraced her again, roughly. With a languid, provocative smile, she turned from him and bent over the bed, bracing herself with her forearms. At first startled, then transfixed, Cesare mounted her from behind. He draped himself over her back and began to thrust. Like a bull. A stag. A stallion.

 

Cesare stood in the shower, his head thrown back, allowing the hot water to course down the length of his body. Lucrezia bathed him, lathering and rinsing him gently.

“Let me wash away whatever is troubling you,” she whispered.

“Cleanse me of my sin.”

She knelt before him and opened her beautiful lips. With his big hand, he shielded her face from the pulsing water.


	14. Trifecta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cesare makes it a hat trick

_Lucrezia’s head broke the surface of the lake. Cesare was calling to her, reaching to her from over the side of the rowboat…_

Wha…Wha…? She shook herself awake.

Cesare was holding her close to him in their bed, his green eyes entreating her, his breathing harsh. He had slid his hand under her nightgown and was stroking her smooth thigh.

“Baby. My baby. Do you need me to make love to you?”

“Huh? Wha…?”

“You were restless. Nervous, maybe. I thought you might need me to make love to you. You know. To console you. Reassure you.”

Lucrezia smiled inwardly. She had been deeply, soundly asleep. Restless? She didn’t think it likely, but…She flung her arms around Cesare’s neck.

“You’re so wonderful,” she murmured. “You always know just what I want.”

 

Vannozza put down the phone and frowned. Clearly, something was bothering Cesare. His voice had been terse and clipped. When he said he was coming over to see her and his father, he wasn’t asking. He was demanding. What was on his mind? She had asked him to wait until after they had all gone to the funeral home to pay respects to Junior.

“No, Mom. Now.”

 

Cesare’s mouth was set into a hard line when she opened the door to admit him.

“Hello, Sweetie. Can I get you something to drink or…”

“We need to talk, Mom. You, me and Dad.”

“All right. Come in and sit down.”

Cesare stalked into the living room where Rodrigo, ensconced in his easy chair with a snifter of brandy, looked up as he entered.

“What’s this all about, son? You want to talk to us?”

Vannozza perched herself on a wing chair across from the sofa where Cesare had settled. He had been picking at his fingernails, she noted. He hadn’t done that since he was a teenager. Why was he so agitated?

“I’ll get right to the point,” Cesare snapped. “Uncle Tony told me about Vickie.”

Vannozza froze.

“What about Vickie?”

“You got him to kill her.”

“Cesare, I…Tony told you that?”

“He did. Is it true?”

“Let me explain…”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, but I had good reason.”

“Good reason! For getting Lucrezia’s mother killed?”

“You know perfectly well Vickie was a terrible person. Awful. She called me and threatened to go public with Lucrezia’s background if we didn’t give her two million dollars. Your father wanted to kill her himself. We couldn’t let him do that, could we? I had to do something. So I asked Uncle Tony for help.”

“Did it have to be murder? Surely there could have been an alternative.”

“There was no alternative,” Rodrigo growled. “I had every intention of going to Watertown and killing her myself. Your mother begged me to hold off until she spoke to Tony.”

“I tried talking to her,” Vannozza declared. “Reasoning with her. She was perfectly willing to ruin her daughter’s life. She would have made good on her threat to expose Lucrezia’s past. Especially if any of the tabloids were willing to pay her for the story. If we had given her the hush money she demanded, it would have been only the beginning of her bleeding us dry. She had to be stopped. Better at Uncle Tony’s hands than your father’s. We did it for Lucrezia, Sweetie. To protect her.”

“Dad.” Cesare turned to face his father. “Uncle Tony told me that he gave you money to start your business. Dirty money. Criminal money. What other favors has Uncle Tony done for our family? For what more are we obliged to him?”

“Nothing. I swear it.”

“Look, Mom, Dad. I didn’t come here to berate you about your involvement in unsavory shit with Uncle Tony. I have no room to talk because I made it a Borgia trifecta. I did something too. Something awful.”

“You, Cesare? What did you do?”

“I killed Tony Junior.”

His parents recoiled in horror.

“No! I don’t believe it!” Rodrigo blurted.

“It’s true, Dad. The night I went with Micheletto to get Lucrezia and Roddy from the safe house where Uncle Tony’s men had taken them after the kidnap plot was foiled, we went first to a warehouse where Tony Junior and his henchmen were being held. Uncle Tony insisted I carry a gun. Junior was tied up, but defiant. He started badmouthing me and insulting Lucrezia and Mom, and I just lost it and I blew him away. Shot him right in the face.”

“Cesare, no! Not you. Not that.”  Vannozza covered her mouth in dismay.

“I did it, Mom. I shot a man who was tied up and helpless. Lucrezia thinks Uncle Tony set me up to it. I’m inclined to agree with her.”

“But why? His own son?”

“That’s exactly why. He wanted to be rid of Junior but he couldn’t do it himself and look Aunt Angie in the eye ever again. So he manipulated me into doing it. And, dumbass that I am, I fell for it. Did just as he wanted.”

“You told Lucrezia what you did?” Vannozza’s voice was hushed, shocked.

“I couldn’t keep something like that from her. Her reaction was not what I expected. She was…well, she was proud of me.”

“Proud? Really?”

“Said I had protected her and Roddy. But I don’t know how I’m going to tell Lucrezia about her mother.”

“Tell her? Cesare, you can’t tell her! She’d never forgive us.”

“She’d never forgive me if she were to find out that I knew and didn’t tell her. I can’t risk that.”

“Cesare, please. I beg you…” Vannozza began to weep. “She’ll hate us. She’ll cut us out of her life.”

“I can’t promise that she won’t, but I’m not going to hide this from her. I swore to her that I’d never keep anything from her.”

“You’re cruel, Cesare. We did what we did because there was no other way. I wouldn't have chosen it, but I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Maybe she’ll see it that way too, Mom.  She sure surprised me with her reaction about Junior.”

“But Vickie was her _mother._ Junior was a thug who threatened her and the baby.”

“You really shot Junior?” Rodrigo continued to sound incredulous.

“Before I realized what I was doing. I just fired. Practically blew his head off.”

“My God, son! What was it like?”

“Horrible. I puked my guts out. Lucrezia treated me like her hero. Believe me, I’m no hero. Vickie really tried to extort us for two million bucks?”

“Yes. Two million,” Vannozza assured Cesare. “I tried to reason with her. There was no reasoning.”

“I know, Mom. I know getting rid of her was the only thing to do. I’m just dumbfounded that you were the one to make it happen.”

“I had to, Honey, or else your father would have tried to do it. He’s a determined man, but he’s not a hit man. He’d have been caught, sent to prison.”

“Now, Vannozza,” Rodrigo demurred. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Uncle Tony has men who know how to cover up killings,” Vannozza continued. “Make them look like accidents or natural causes. Or make bodies disappear, if need be. Take care of things.”

Cesare nodded.

“I know Uncle Tony covered up for me. Seeing as how I was getting rid of his problem for him, i think it's the least he can do. Look, we all love him. But it seems as if there’s no way to associate with him without being corrupted by his influence. Maybe all that power he holds is just too tempting. He makes it seem too easy to solve all our difficulties.”

“What you say is true. But, Sweetie, you must know that we never would have moved against Vickie if she hadn’t threatened our family.”

“I know, but like it or not, she was Lucrezia’s family. Mom, my wife and I promised each other early on that we’d never keep secrets. She’s got to know about this.”

“Then I’ll tell her myself.”

“Mom, are you sure?”

“We’ll both tell her, Vannozza,” Rodrigo declared. “After we leave the funeral home, we’ll tell her together.”


	15. Disclosures And Denials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein occurs a spiritual struggle

The funeral parlor overflowed with floral arrangements and countless visitors who came to pay their respects. The suffocating perfume of lilies hung heavily in the air, mingled with the heat of bodies crammed into the viewing room. Junior’s wife, Laura, clad in deepest black, wept loudly and showily into a handkerchief heavily trimmed with lace, wailing at the loss of her darling husband, her life, her best friend. Her daughters, Angelina and Natalia, ages nine and seven respectively, tilted their heads quizzically as they contemplated their mother.

“Nonno,” Angelina observed to Uncle Tony. “Mommy never called Daddy her darling husband. She called him a worthless son of a bitch.”

“Hush, _Gattina_ ,” her grandfather whispered, suppressing a chuckle. “It’s polite to say only nice things about people who have passed away.”

 

Aunt Angie appeared to have aged twenty years. Junior, in spite of himself, was her darling, her _bambino_ , and she had loved him with every fiber of her fierce, tiny being. She sat now, her chair close to her son’s casket, gazing longingly at him with eyes red-rimmed from weeping.

“Vannozza,” she called out as she saw her niece arrive. “Come and sit by me. Hold my hand.”

While Rodrigo crossed the room to pay respects to Uncle Tony, Vannozza sat beside Aunt Angie, kissing her papery cheek.

“ _Cara Zia_ ,” she murmured. “I am so sorry. So very sorry.”

“He was a good boy, Vannozza. In spite of what he tried to do to Lucrezia and the baby, he didn’t deserve this. Shot down like a dog.”

“ _You_ don’t deserve this, Aunt Angie. I can’t even imagine how you must feel.”

“Tony told me that Micheletto took care of the _stronzo_ who did this. That gives me some satisfaction.”

“You have your grandbabies, Z _ia_. They will comfort you.”

“They are good little girls. Their _nonno_ will have to guide them now.”

“They will need you too, _cara._ We all need you.”

“Bah! I’m nothing but an old woman. Worthless.”

“You are the heart of our family. We would fall apart without you.”

Vannozza brought Aunt Angie’s gnarled hand to her lips to kiss.

“Look at this hand, _cara Zia_. This hand has held us all within it. Worked hard. Cooked for us. Hugged us. Spanked us when we needed it.”

“All of you are grown up now. You need me no more.”

“We will never be too grown up not to need you. You must stay strong for your _famiglia_.”

“Ah, _mia dolce_ , I will need you to help me be strong.”

“You have me, Aunt Angie. I will always stay close to you.”

“You and the little one. Lucrezia.”

“She will be with you too.”

“She’s a sweet girl. Old fashioned. Like me.”

“She is much like you. She keeps to her home and her family.”

“She calls me up all the time. On the telephone.”

“She loves to talk to you, Aunt Angie. You give her good advice.”

“Bah! What does an old lady know?”

“Enough to make us all listen to you, _cara Zia_. We know who’s smart.”

“Vannozza. How am I going to go on living without my boy?”

“Oh, Aunt Angie! How I wish I could answer that. How I wish I could take away your sorrow.”

“When I think of the son-of-a bitch who did this, my blood boils. The dirty bastard! May he rot in hell.”

“Oh, Aunt Angie…”

 

Aunt Angie’s arms reached for Roddy when his parents brought him over to her.

“ _Piccolo_ ,” she cried with delight as she cuddled him on her lap. “Such a handsome boy. Like his papa. Lucrezia. _Tesoro_. You know Junior didn’t mean you any harm. He was just…”

Lucrezia kissed Aunt Angie’s cheek.

“We know, Aunt Angie. We’re so sorry,” she murmured.

“How are you holding up, Z _ia_?” Cesare asked, his voice a bit hoarse and halting.

“I’m an old woman. Why is this happening? Why am I burying my boy? He should be burying me.”

She began to weep. With soft whispers of sympathy, Lucrezia and Vannozza bent their heads over her. Roddy wailed in sympathy until Cesare took him up.

“Why, God? Why my boy?” Angie sobbed. “Why did you take him from me?”

Cesare’s throat closed. He willed Lucrezia to look at him, to notice him.

“Cesare, darling, are you sick?” she asked softly.

“Um…I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

She stood at once.

“Excuse us, please. I think Cesare needs some fresh air.”

She settled Roddy on her hip and took Cesare by the arm, leading him out onto the funeral parlor’s wide porch, covered with a heavy, striped canvas awning.

“Darling, what is it?”

“Aunt Angie. Man, I feel terrible. I did that to her.”

“Keep your voice down, Cesare, please. It was not your fault. Oh, hello, Raphael.”

Uncle Tony’s underling had hurried outside when he saw Cesare and Lucrezia leave the viewing room.

“Donna Lucrezia. Don Cesare. Is everything all right?”

“We’re fine, Raphael, thank you,” Lucrezia assured him. “The smell of the flowers was overpowering and we needed to clear our heads. That’s all.”

“May I be of service in any way? Get you anything?”

“A glass of water, if you don’t mind.”

“At once.”

When Raphael departed, Lucrezia gently rested her hand on Cesare’s arm.

“Darling, we are all sorry for Aunt Angie’s grief. But Junior had to go. He was dangerous, a menace. His own father wanted him gone. Remember that. You did only what Uncle Tony maneuvered you into doing.”

Cesare pressed his lips to Lucrezia’s forehead.

“Baby, my baby. What would I do without you?”

“You don’t have to wonder that, because I will be here for as long as you want me.”

“Forever.”

Raphael returned with a large glass of ice water which Lucrezia took from him gratefully.

“Thank you so much. But please don’t feel that you need to hover over us. We’re feeling much better now.”

Raphael nodded respectfully and withdrew.

Lucrezia sat down on a patio glider and settled Roddy on her lap. Cesare watched, fascinated, at the movement of her throat as she drank from the glass of water.

_Everything about her, he thought, fascinated him. He was bewitched by her, completely in thrall to her. She said she was his forever. But how would she react when she learned the truth of her mother’s death? Would she hate him? Well, not him, probably. He had known nothing about it. But his parents. She loved them so much, but would that affection turn to hate when she heard the truth? Maybe they shouldn’t tell her. Just keep their mouths shut. But what if she found out anyway? How likely was that? Not very. But if she did, she’d be furious that he hadn’t told her. Furious enough to leave him?_

His throat went dry.

“Lucrezia, could I have a sip of your water, please?”

 

Towards the end of the evening, a priest conducted a service, offering prayers for the repose of Junior’s soul. Laura stood beside the casket, weeping. Angelina held her grandfather’s hand and Natalia cuddled on Aunt Angie’s lap as she sat on a camelback sofa in the viewing parlor. Vannozza clasped Roddy in her arms, gently rocking her body from side to side as her husband patted the child’s back. Lucrezia embraced Cesare, resting her head against his chest as she whispered responses to the petitions of the priest.”

“Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.”

_“And let perpetual light shine upon him.”_

“May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace.”

_“Amen.”_

 

After making goodbyes, Cesare and Lucrezia walked to their car. Rodrigo and Vannozza, still carrying a now-sleeping Roddy, followed behind them.

“I know it’s getting late, Lucrezia, but might we come over to your apartment for a little while?” Rodrigo asked.

“Of course, Dad. I’ll put Roddy to bed and then make us some tea.”

Cesare closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Hoo-boy! Now it hits the fan.

 

Lucrezia gently washed Roddy’s face and hands, dressed him in a clean diaper and pajamas, then tucked him into his crib. Her husband and his parents all seemed to jump nervously when she joined them in the living room. Vannozza had made tea and now offered Lucrezia a cup as she sat down beside Cesare on the sofa.

“Thanks, Mom. You’re so good to me.”

Cesare swallowed hard.

“Darling,” Vannozza began. “I don’t quite know how to go about this, but there is something we need to tell you.”

“Mom, you seem anxious. Please don’t be.”

“I can’t help it. We’re all anxious about this. We love you so much.”

“And I love you right back.”

Vannozza licked her dry lips. Rodrigo bounced his knee up and down. Cesare picked at his fingernails.

“What is it?” Lucrezia said. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

“Darling, we know how much you mourned for your mother,” Vannozza began.

“Well, yes. But you were all so kind and supportive. I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“Lucrezia, you were a good daughter to your mother.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth. But it’s also the truth that Vickie wasn’t always the mother you deserved.”

“Honey,” Cesare interjected. “She was never the mother you deserved.”

“But she’s gone now,” Lucrezia said flatly. “We shouldn’t be saying such things about her.”

“That’s just it, Sweetie,” Vannozza replied. “We have to say the truth, as much as we’d like it to be different. Your mother hurt you. She treated you terribly. You know she did.”

Lucrezia took a sip of tea to give her a moment’s pause to think.

“Please don’t ask me to be unkind to my mother’s memory.”

Cesare bit his lip. Rodrigo bounced his knee harder.

Vannozza sighed deeply.

“We didn’t tell you this at the time because we didn’t want to upset you, but we need to tell you now. When you were pregnant with Roddy, your mother called me from Watertown and threatened to go public with your past unless we gave her two million dollars.”

“Mom, no! She wouldn’t have done such a thing.”

Cesare moved closer to Lucrezia and slid his arm around her back.

Vannozza continued.

“She did, Sweetie. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. She did just that. I tried to reason with her, talk her out of it. But she was determined. Either we paid her or she would go to the tabloid papers and magazines.”

Lucrezia began to cry.

“She would have done that to me? To you?”

“We didn’t want to tell you, but as things later turned out, it has become imperative that we do, in the hope that you will understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why we did what we did.”

Lucrezia’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“What…did you do?”

Rodrigo leaned forward.

“When it became apparent that there was no reasoning with your mother, we were in despair as to what to do. Were we to pay her the blackmail money she demanded, it would have been just the beginning. She would have never been satisfied. So I decided to get a gun and go to Watertown myself and…”

“Daddy, no…”

“No, Lucrezia,” Vannozza spoke up. “Rodrigo didn’t go to Watertown. I persuaded him to allow me to ask Uncle Tony for help.”

“Uncle Tony? Why Uncle Tony?”

“He’s the head of an organized crime family. We thought you knew.”

Lucrezia turned to her husband.

“Did you know, Cesare? About Uncle Tony?”

“I knew. We kept our distance from that part of his life, but we all knew.”

Lucrezia inhaled deeply, looking from one beloved face to another, disbelieving.

“So, what…what did Uncle Tony do?”

Vannozza bit her lip.

“Sweetie, he…he had her killed. He had your mother killed.”

Lucrezia burst into explosive sobs.

“No. It can’t be true. She died of an embolism. There was an autopsy…”

“The embolism was brought about by Tony’s men. Assassins. Men who are good at making a murder look like an accident. Or like natural causes. I’m so sorry to be telling you this, my darling.”

“My mother is dead because of you?”

“Yes.”

Lucrezia swung around to confront Cesare.

“Did you know about this? Were you in on it?”

“No, Baby. I just found out myself. But I can’t say I’m sorry about it.”

“Cesare, she was my _mother_!”

“She didn’t deserve you. She was never a true mother to you. All she ever did was use and hurt you. I hated her for that.”

“You don’t know, Cesare. You don’t know the kind of life she had.”

“That’s true. I only know what I saw her do to you. I tried to mitigate things. I sent her money to keep her off your back. But it wasn’t enough. It would never have been enough.”

“She never even got to see the baby.”

“Be honest, Lucrezia. Do you think she would have cared? Every time you got off the phone with her, you were upset and crying. She just didn’t give two shits about…”

Cesare reached out his hand to Lucrezia and she slapped it away.

“Liar! She loved me. She was excited about the baby. She…she…”

Lucrezia jumped up from the sofa and ran into her bedroom, pushing the door shut behind her.

Cesare exchanged glances with his parents.

“Well, that went just terribly.”

 

Rodrigo and Vannozza quietly left for home, asking Cesare to call if he needed them. He stood in front of the bedroom door and was dismayed to hear Lucrezia’s muffled sobs. She was obviously crying hard but trying to keep her tears hushed lest she wake Roddy, asleep in his crib in their bedroom.

Should he knock? Ask her to let him in? Beg her forgiveness? Maybe he should just let her alone for now. Let her think. Was he being a coward and actually avoiding her? _Oh, hell, yeah!_

 

Lucrezia sprawled across her bed, crying into her pillow.

Her beloved Vannozza and Rodrigo had killed her mother. Killed her! Her mother had been murdered. Brutal assassins had laid rough hands on her beautiful mother and killed her!

She couldn’t bear it! She never wanted to see Cesare’s parents again. Every time Vannozza had wrapped her in that blue silk robe and tucked her in for a nap, she had done so knowing that she had brought about Vickie’s murder. That treacherous snake! Rodrigo! Her loving Daddy would have gone to Watertown and killed Vickie with his very own hand. Dear Uncle Tony! That sweet teddy bear of a man, bouncing Roddy upon his knee, jovial, kindly Uncle Tony! A mob Don who had sent hit men to dispose of her mother as if she had been a piece of rubbish. And Cesare! He had killed a man himself and now told her he approved of her mother’s murder. What kind of bloodthirsty tribe were these people, her family?

She, who had been overcome with shame over being a prostitute. Believed herself vile and dirty because she had sold her body.

Whom had she hurt, other than herself? Whom had she ever harmed?

She should leave. Take Roddy and just leave. Get away from these horrible people. These corrupt murderers.

They killed my mother!

…Who had tried to blackmail them. Who would have gone to the press and humiliated her pregnant daughter. She would have, too. If she couldn’t get the Borgias to buy her silence, she would have gotten the tabloids to buy her story.

Mom…

The mother who had sold her into a life of degradation. Who had sold her at thirteen into a brutal ravishment. Who had demanded that she sell her body to strangers and give her the money they paid her. Who had destroyed her spirit and her self esteem and her soul. Who had led her to believe that she was only worth the price her body could command.

Vannozza had loved her unconditionally. Embraced her. Lifted her up.

Rodrigo had protected her. Defended her. Doted upon her.

Uncle Tony had taken action to remove a very real threat against her.

And Cesare!

She plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand and dried her tears and blew her nose. Rising from the bed, she undressed to her silk underslip, quietly opened the door and glided barefoot into the living room. Having taken off his sport coat and tie and opened his shirt collar, Cesare sat in the dark, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, staring at nothing, his big hand dangling over the arm of the chair, grasping a beer bottle by the neck. His long body was slouched, a study in virile grace, ready to spring at any moment, shadowed, beautiful, his green eyes glowing in the dark like some feral and restless panther, his bow-shaped lips parted, his chest rising and falling with his agitated breathing.

_Cesare!_

She stood silently, observing him, regarding him.

How completely she had fallen for him, at first sight! She, cool, professional, a practiced manipulator of men, had simply lost her cool, professional head. She had broken every one of her own ironclad rules and had actually allowed herself to fall asleep in his arms in bed. She had trusted him that much. And he had not let her down. He had loved her. Glommed onto her. Given himself to her entirely. Placed himself into her hands. She realized that she adored every particle of this spoiled, demanding, infantile, lusty, steadfast, stalwart, strong, impassioned man. She needed him.

He looked up when he heard her whisper his name. She took the beer from his hand and set it down on a nearby end table and lowered herself onto his lap.

“Baby,” he began, “I’m so sorry…”

She pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Hush, my darling. Just hold me.”

 

The next morning, Lucrezia called Vannozza.

“Mom, can I come over with Roddy and have a nap in your bed?”

“Sweetie, of course! Want some hot chocolate?”

“I’d love some.”

“I’ll send the car for you.”

“Can I wear your blue robe?”

“It’s waiting right here for you.’

“Mom, I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zia -- Aunt  
> Mia dolce -- my sweet  
> Piccolo -- little one  
> Stronzo -- shit


	16. Undaunted Mettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein occur machinations

The morning of Junior’s burial dawned as Cesare was providing Lucrezia with his consolation and reassurance yet again.

“I’m here, Baby,” he whispered hoarsely, his long body covering hers, the tempo of his thrusts speeding up as he neared his peak. “I’m right here.”

She wound her legs around his hips and pulled him deeper into her.

“You make me feel safe, my love.”

“Trust me. I’ll take care of you…Argh! Argh! Oh, Lucrezia!”

 

Smug with the secret knowledge that beneath her subdued silk dress was a white silk Le Tresor bra and matching panties that he had watched her put on, Cesare escorted his wife into the funeral parlor. How Lucrezia loved silk things, and how he loved her in them! He also loved taking her out of them.

Seeing the depth of Aunt Angie’s grief made him feel horribly ashamed for his lascivious musings. She sat in a hard-backed chair, tiny and stooped, weeping quietly while Uncle Tony hovered around her helplessly. Poor Aunt Angie! She truly loved that worthless-ass son of hers. A son only a mother could love.

Lucrezia felt Cesare’s hand tense against her back and looked up at him.

“Darling,” she whispered. “We’re all sorry for Aunt Angie’s pain. But you did no wrong.”

“Keep telling me that.”

“Were he to have had his way, Roddy and I might not be here now. You would be the one grieving. Remember that.”

At the base of Lucrezia’s spine, Cesare curled his hand into a fist.

 

Lucrezia placed Roddy in his grandmother’s lap and sat down in the folding chair next to her.

“Poor Aunt Angie,” Vannozza whispered. “It hurts to see her in such a state. God only knows Junior didn’t deserve how much she loved him.”

 

After the burial service, family and friends gathered at Aunt Angie’s home for a luncheon that, at Tony’s insistence, was provided by a caterer. Angie protested that it helped her to keep busy, but her husband was adamant.

“You are to rest and let someone else do the work, for a change. If you insist, supervise the caterers in the kitchen, but let them take care of things.”

While Angie sat in a big, comfortable chair with Natalia in her lap, Uncle Tony quietly laid his hand on Micheletto’s shoulder.

“I am going to my office now, _ragazzo_ _mio._ I want you to bring Laura to see me. You and I will talk to her together.”

 

“How are you, honey?” Tony’s voice was soothing, coaxing.

“Oh, Papa,” Laura sobbed. “I don’t know how I’ll live through this. I don’t know how I’ll go on without my Junior. He was my rock. My strength. My everything. And now he’s taken from me. From our little girls.”

“It’s terrible. A tragedy. We all suffer his loss. But Micheletto has something to tell you which may help a little bit.”

Micheletto leaned forward in his chair, inclining toward Laura.

“Donna Laura. I am very sorry for your bereavement. Perhaps it might help you to know that you need not worry about how you are going to live. How you will feed and clothe your little ones.”

“What do you mean, Micheletto?” Laura’s head came up from her lacy handkerchief.

“I want you to know that you and your children will be well provided for. Your girls will have the best schools, the best clothes. You will have the funds to maintain your household in dignity and comfort.”

Laura looked over at Uncle Tony.

“Papa…?”

“Micheletto is my successor and now the head of the organization.” Tony spoke softly, patting Laura’s hand. “It is his decision that you should be cared for in a manner befitting your station. It is to him that you owe thanks.”

“Don Micheletto,” Laura began, “I don’t know how I can ever…”

“Donna Laura. We were fortunate to have known your departed husband. Out of respect and gratitude to him, we are honored to provide for you and your daughters. You are a young woman. Perhaps someday you may find love again. But know that you will forever remain the esteemed widow of Don Antonio Junior and retain your portion. Although we cannot compensate you for the loss of your husband, we hope that you will find some ease in knowing that your material needs will always be met.”

Laura grasped Micheletto’s hand and kissed it.

“You are a good man, Don Micheletto. You will always be in my prayers, and those of my children.”

“I thank you for that, Madam.”

Laura rose from her chair and departed, quietly closing the door behind her.

“Well done, Micheletto. You wear the mantle with grace and authority.”

“You taught me. I will send for Cesare now.”

Micheletto opened the office door a crack and spoke quietly to Raphael, who stood just outside. The soldier nodded and crossed the room to where Cesare perched on the arm of the chair where Lucrezia sat, holding Roddy on her lap. Husband and wife had locked eyes with each other, and had interlaced their hands tightly.

“Don Cesare,” Raphael said, clearing his throat. “Will you come to Don Antonio’s office? He needs to speak with you. In private.”

“I don’t like to leave my wife alone, Raphael.”

“I will remain with Donna Lucrezia and the child. You can trust me to guard them.”

“It’s all right, Darling,” Lucrezia murmured. “Please go and see Uncle Tony.”

Cesare brought Lucrezia’s hand to his lips and kissed it fervently.

“I’ll come right back.”

She smiled tremulously at him, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Ever since her ordeal,” Cesare told Raphael in a low voice, “she has been afraid to be away from me.”

“Ah. I understand,” he replied, but he thought to himself, ' _Is she the one who is afraid, or is he the one who can’t bear to let her out of his sight?'_

Raphael noted that Lucrezia’s gaze followed Cesare. _Well, perhaps it is a mutual thing._

"He’s so beautiful," Lucrezia thought, thrilling to the image of her husband’s sinewy back. Those long legs, that thick, dark hair sweeping those broad shoulders. Those big hands that slid so tenderly over her flesh, those lightly-bearded cheeks that softly scratched her inner thighs when he…She shivered, recalling him at home, pulling on black boxer-briefs, tugging them up over his high, tight backside, his big, thick…

“Donna Lucrezia. Donna Lucrezia.”

She jumped, startled out of her contemplation.

“Oh, Raphael! Sorry. I was distracted.”

“Forgive me if I disturbed you, Donna Lucrezia. I wanted to ask if I might bring you something to eat or drink. Or something for the _bambino_ , perhaps.”

“That’s very kind, but my husband would be upset if you were to leave my side.”

Raphael beckoned to a young waiter standing next to the dining room table, assisting guests.

“Bring the lady whatever she desires.”

“Raphael, please pull up a chair and sit down next to Roddy and me,” Lucrezia said. “Let’s share a cold drink and some conversation.”

 

“Hello, Uncle Tony, Micheletto. You wanted to speak to me?”

Uncle Tony nodded to his successor, indicating that he should do the talking.

“Cesare. We were concerned about you and wanted to know that you have recovered from the ‘unpleasantness’ with Junior.”

“Well, Micheletto, I have to say that it was one of the worst moments in my life. I could see myself doing some crazy shit, but never that.”

“You must not carry guilt, Cesare. You did what any man would have done.”

Uncle Tony put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“I have no hard feelings, my boy.”

“Well, I hope not, Uncle Tony. Seeing as how I did what you manipulated me into doing.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Taking me to where Junior was, knowing I was mad as hell at what he tried to do. Being fully aware that I know almost nothing about guns but insisting I have one to protect myself from men who were tied up and under heavy guard. Giving me a gun so powerful that I didn’t even really have to aim it to blow a crater through a man. Knowing that Junior would be stupid enough to shoot his mouth off at me and I would be stupid enough to shoot his mouth off in return. Uncle Tony, come on. You manipulated me. You got me to get rid of Junior for you so you could face Aunt Angie and tell her you had nothing to do with killing her son.”

“Cesare, you should not speak so to your uncle,” Micheletto exclaimed.

“I mean no disrespect, Uncle Tony. You are my mother’s favorite _zio_ and you are mine too. Always have been. You took care of us—of me—and I am grateful. You protected my wife and my son. I’ll never forget that. I don’t have it in me to be one of your soldiers, Uncle Tony, but I am your loyal family member and owe you all my affection and respect. My parents have blood on their hands. I have blood on my hands. We have dark secrets among us, don’t we? Let’s pledge that our secrets will remain within our family. Micheletto, my uncle trusts you enough to make you his successor. I’d say that makes us family, no? Cousins. _Cugini_."

Cesare stood and extended his hand to Micheletto, who rose and accepted the gesture. The men exchanged kisses on both cheeks and Uncle Tony clapped the two of them on the back.

“This is well. As it should be. _Famiglia.”_ He kissed the two young men in turn.  "So, we have an understanding, do we not?”

“We do, Uncle Tony. _Famiglia_ always.”

“Cesare. _Cugino_ ,” Micheletto spoke softly. “Be assured that from this day, your ladies will be under my protection. They will have bodyguards.”

“Bodyguards?”

“Someone will discretely watch over them. Should your wife take the little one to the park, for instance, or go out with Donna Vannozza, they all will be protected.”

“Thank you, _Cugino._ Raphael is a very good man. Smart. Loyal. Trustworthy. I would be grateful if he were the one to protect my family. Provided he would be willing.”

“I am glad to hear you speak so of Raphael, because I brought him into the business myself. He will be honored to guard your family.”

“And I have a favor to ask for myself.”

“Of course.”

“Teach me about guns. When you put that cannon in my hand, I nearly pissed myself. I could have easily shot my own cock off. Teach me.”

“It will be my pleasure. I hope we may become friends.”

“I see a beautiful friendship ahead for us.”

 

Cesare consoled and reassured Lucrezia so well and so frequently that she soon began to have morning sickness. Cesare and Vannozza accompanied her when she went for an ultrasound. Roddy sat on his grandmother’s hip, not terribly interested in the proceedings.

“A boy,” the sonographer declared. “Definitely a boy.”

Cesare, standing beside Lucrezia as she lay on the examining table, felt his chest swell. Another son! He leaned over and kissed his wife, murmuring, _“Bring forth men-children only, for thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males.”_

Vannozza smacked his arm.

“You’re a smug SOB. I was hoping for a granddaughter.”

“Next time, Mom.” Lucrezia’s voice was conciliatory. “Cesare will make a girl next time.”

“What?” Cesare teased. “I dare you to find an X chromosome sperm anywhere in me.”

“Nobody knows better than I do how much of a man you are, darling. And nobody likes it better either.”

“Well, I suppose I could give you a daughter, since you’re so sweet. But just one.”

“How about we concentrate on welcoming Cesare Junior into the world first?”

“Cesare Junior? After me? Are you sure?”

“Completely. He will look just like you, as Roddy does.”

Lucrezia’s eyes, luminous and adoring, locked with Cesare’s. His smile, intimate and amatory, was for her alone.

Vannozza cleared her throat, hating to interrupt but having to be practical.

“Cesare, you may want to get back to work. Lucrezia and I are going to take Roddy for a nice lunch and then to the YMCA for swimming. Yes, Roddy, that’s right. Swimming!”

The toddler clapped his hands.

 

_“Hi, Aunt Angie!”_

“Lucrezia! _Cara_! How nice of you to call me. How are you?”

_“Pretty good, Aunt Angie. A lot of morning sickness, though.”_

“Ah. You’re gonna have a girl, I bet.”

_“Well, all the tests say it’s a boy, Aunt Angie.”_

“Bah! Tests! Doctors! What do they know? Trust your _Zia_. It’s a girl.”

_“Why do you say that?”_

“Bad morning sickness means it’s a girl. A little morning sickness is a boy.”

_“Well, I’m sure you’ve seen enough of that to know.”_

“We women, we have to know such things, _cara_. I knew you had a boy when you were pregnant with Roddy.”

_“And you were right.”_

“Come on over for dinner this weekend. I’ll make you wedding soup.”

_“You will? Oh, thank you! You know I love your wedding soup. But do you feel up to having company?”_

“I like to keep busy. It keeps my mind off things.”

_“I’m so sorry, Aunt Angie. I know how much you miss Junior.”_

“He was a good boy, _cara_. He loved his mama.”

_“He sure did. He knew he was lucky to have you.”_

“Bah! I’m a useless old woman.”

_“Aunt Angie! Stop saying that. If you only knew how we all rely on you…”_

“You’re a good girl. How is the little one?”

_“Big and bad. Into everything. I have a hard time keeping up with him.”_

“Are you getting your rest?”

_“I am, Aunt Angie. Too much, maybe. I used to go to the gym with Mom every morning, but now that I have so much morning sickness, I don’t do that anymore.”_

“The gym? Vannozza goes to the gym?”

_“Nearly every day. There’s a gym close enough to her apartment that she can walk to it. I used to meet her there and we’d take Roddy swimming after we worked out. But I’m too nauseated at the moment to do that very much. I’m hoping I’ll feel better in a few weeks and we can resume our schedule. I miss it.”_

“You should be taking it easy. Gymnastics? I don’t think so.”

_“Not gymnastics, Aunt Angie. Just a very light workout and some nice, slow swimming. The doctor says it’s good for me and for the babies. Both of them.”_

“Well, you’re young. You don’t need to pay attention to an old lady.”

_“Now, Aunt Angie…”_

“I know. I give you a hard time. I like to tease you. You’re a good girl. You’re a good wife, a good mama.”

_“Aunt Angie, that means so much to me that you say so.”_

“You should go lie down, if Roddy will let you.”

_“He’s playing quietly right now. I’ll sit with my feet up and have some soda crackers to settle my stomach.”_

“Have some peppermint tea. It will do you good.”

_“I will. I’ll go make it right now. Love you, Aunt Angie.”_

“Love you too, _cara_.”

 

_“Raphael, it’s Vannozza calling. I’m going to the gym this morning.”_

“Ah, Donna Vannozza. Thank you for letting me know. I can be waiting for you in the lobby of your building in about a half hour. Will that suit you?”

_“Perfect. I hate having to make you escort me everywhere, but if I don’t, my husband and son won’t let me hear the end of it.”_

“It’s my honor and pleasure, Madonna. I like going to the gym with you. I’m able to get in my own workout when I accompany you.”

_“You’re so gallant."  
_

 

Vannozza’s smile was as bright as the sunshine as she strode towards the gym for her morning workout.

“How boring for you, Raphael, having to drag after a woman…”

She stepped off the curb and into a crosswalk.

 

Cesare’s voice on the other end of the phone was grim.

“Lucrezia, I’m on my way to the hospital with Dad. I’m sending the town car for you right now to take you there. Mom and Raphael were hit by a car. She’s in critical condition. Raphael was killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 7, by William Shakespeare


	17. Sotto Voce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein voices are kept low

Rodrigo and Cesare were speaking quietly with a young uniformed police officer of medium height but with a football center’s physique when Lucrezia and Roddy arrived in the ICU waiting room.

“She was going to the gym for her morning workout.” Rodrigo was barely able to choke out his words. “Raphael was with her.”

“Apparently, Mr. Borgia,” the officer said, “As they were crossing the street, a dark-colored car ran a red light and plowed into them and kept going. Several people who saw the incident said that Mr. Cipriani tried to push Mrs. Borgia out of the path of the car but it just came too fast. As it was, he took the brunt of the collision and was killed instantly.”

“My wife was severely injured. She has a skull fracture, both of her legs are broken, along with several ribs. A host of internal injuries. The doctors don’t even yet know the full extent. She’s unconscious.” Rodrigo began to sob. “They don’t know if she’ll survive.”

“I’m very sorry, sir. The car which we believe hit Mrs. Borgia and Mr. Cipriani was found abandoned and torched near a scrap metal yard. The license plate it bore had been stolen. No one who had witnessed the incident got a good enough look at the driver even to say if it had been a man or a woman. It just happened too quickly.”

The officer was apologetic at the lack of information but promised that the department would continue an aggressive investigation.

“I’ll keep you informed,” he said, and departed.

“Oh, Dad!” Lucrezia murmured, embracing Rodrigo. “She’s just got to be all right. Have you seen her?”

“Only for a few moments. That’s all we’re allowed. Two visitors at a time and for only a few moments.”

“Am I permitted?”

“I’ll go with you.”

Lucrezia handed Roddy to the waiting arms of his father and followed Rodrigo into the darkened room where Vannozza lay amid a tangle of tubes and wires.

“Oh, God, Daddy. It looks like the Laocoön.”

“The doctors are most worried about her head injuries,” Rodrigo whispered. “She’s breathing on her own, but she’s unresponsive.”

Lucrezia approached the bed and took Vannozza’s hand, being careful to not disturb the IV port which had been inserted into it. Instruments beeped and flashed, measuring out the life of the woman who lay motionless amid crisp white sheets.

“Mom,” Lucrezia said gently. “Mom, do you hear me? I love you, Mom. We’re all here with you.”

She bent and kissed Vannozza’s cheek. Her head was covered with a cap made from flesh-colored bandage material knotted at the crown.

“Daddy, did they have to shave her head? Her beautiful hair…”

“Not yet. They may have to. Probably will have to. They’re talking about surgery...”

Rodrigo’s voice broke off.

“Oh, Daddy. Mom is strong. She has everything to live for. You, Cesare, Roddy, Cesare Junior.”

“And you, my darling. She loves you so much.”

“She has a strong will. Even though she seems out of it, she’s fighting to come back to us. And she will. I know it.”

Rodrigo kissed Lucrezia’s forehead.

“I believe you, my little girl.”

Behind them, an earsplitting alarm blared. The attending nurse jumped up from the console at which she had been seated.

“What? What? What’s happening?” Rodrigo stammered.

“Please leave, Mr. Borgia. Now,” the nurse barked as she leaned over Vannozza.

A crew of medics in surgical scrubs pounded into the room and surrounded the bed.

“Daddy, please. Let’s let the doctors and nurses take care of Mom.”

“Oh, Vannozza. My darling!”

Lucrezia led her father-in-law into the corridor.

Cesare, frantic, blurted out,” What’s happening? I heard someone say ‘Code.’ What does that mean? That Mom…?”

Lucrezia took Roddy into her own arms.

“Mom’s heart stopped. The doctors are working to get it restarted.”

Cesare wiped his hand over his face, gone pale as Vannozza’s sheets.

“Her heart stopped?”

“Just for a moment, Cesare. Just for a moment.”

“She’s dead. Oh, my God, she’s dead.”

The tone of Cesare’s voice made Roddy wail in fear.

“She’s not dead,” Lucrezia declared. “She won’t leave us. She’s fighting. Hard. She just needs some help right now.”

One of Vannozza’s doctors emerged from the room with a relieved look on her face.

“Mrs. Borgia is a tough woman. A real scrapper. We were able to get her heart restarted without too much trouble. She’s stable now.”

Rodrigo, visibly shaken, began to weep.

“You were right, Lucrezia.”

“She loves us too much to leave us. Cesare, Dad, I should take Roddy home. This is no place for a toddler. He’s getting upset.”

“I can’t spare you,” Rodrigo gasped. “I can’t do without you.”

A small commotion down the corridor drew everyone’s attention. Uncle Tony and Aunt Angie were approaching, followed closely by Micheletto.

“Rodrigo,” Uncle Tony murmured, as quietly as he was able to whisper. “What has happened to my _Tesoro_?”

“At this point, all we know is what I told you over the phone. She and Raphael were hit by a car. A hit and run. Poor Raphael tried to push her out of the way. He gave his life for her. She’s in critical condition.”

Uncle Tony embraced Rodrigo and began to cry.

“Raphael dead! My little Vannozza hurt! How could this be?”

“It makes no sense.” Rodrigo shook his head. “Just a moment ago, her heart stopped. The doctors were able to get it restarted, but it reminds us just how badly injured she is. They don’t know if she will…if she will…”

Lucrezia leaned her head against Rodrigo’s shoulder.

“She won’t leave us, Daddy. She won’t.”

Aunt Angie reached for Roddy and cuddled him close, kissing his soft hair.

“Poor _Bambino_. You should take him home, Lucrezia.”

“She wants to do that, Angie, but I need her here,” Rodrigo insisted.

“Then I will take Roddy home with me. I’ll call Laura to come over and help. Micheletto, would you take us to the car?”

“Of course, Donna Angela. Gio will drive you home.”

Lucrezia kissed Aunt Angie’s cheek.

“Thank you, _cara Zia_. If he gets to be too much, call me.”

“We’ll be fine. You take care of Vannozza.”

Just before Micheletto gently placed his hand under Aunt Angie’s elbow to escort her away, she leaned in close to her husband as if to kiss him and spoke to him _sotto voce_.

“Antonio. Now you grieve as I do.”

Uncle Tony’s jaw dropped.

“Angela…”

But she was gone.


	18. Meek And Obedient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein shock follows shock

The last thing Lucrezia remembered was Cesare jumping up from his chair in the ICU waiting room and crying out her name. The next thing of which she became aware was Cesare kneeling beside her on the floor, crying out her name.

“Oh, my God!” Rodrigo was shouting. “She’s fainted!”

Cesare had cradled her in his arms, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Baby. My Baby. Wake up.”

She stirred a little, and moved her lips, but could make no sound.

“Doctor!” Rodrigo’s voice was strident and panicked. “We need a doctor!”

 

“How far along is she, Mr. Borgia?”

“About four months, Doctor.”

“Well, the baby’s heartbeat is fine. Strong. Your wife, however, is exhausted. Dehydrated. I’ve checked her over carefully and can see no evidence of any conditions like pre-eclampsia or blood clots in her lungs or anywhere else, so I’d like to give her an IV to rehydrate her and then send her home in your care. I want her to eat and drink plenty of liquids, and to rest.”

“I’ll see to it, Doctor. Thank you.”

 

At Lucrezia’s insistence, Cesare drove first to Aunt Angie’s house to collect Roddy before going home. With his arm around his wife to support her, he helped her up the porch steps.

“Lucrezia! _Cara_!” Angie cried, opening the door to admit the couple. “Micheletto called me and told me you fainted. Come in. Sit down. I’ll get you some soup.”

“Thank you, Aunt Angie. Is Roddy okay?”

“Just fine. He’s been playing with Angelina and Natalia. They have all been laughing and laughing.”

Hearing their grandmother speak their names from the front entrance, the little girls came running, followed by Laura, holding Roddy in her arms.

“Aunt Lucrezia. Are you feeling all right now? Mommy said you passed out,” Angelina piped, her brow furrowed with worry.

Lucrezia caressed Angelina’s long, soft hair.

“I’m fine, Sweetheart. I just didn’t eat enough or drink enough water, and I got sick because of it.”

The nine year old pressed her face to Lucrezia’s rounded belly.

“You have a baby inside you, don’t you, Aunt Lucrezia? You have to be more careful.”

“I will be, Angelina. But right now, we’re all so worried about Aunt Vannozza. It’s all we can think about.”

“How is she?” Angie asked quietly.

“No change, _Zia_ ,” Cesare replied, taking Roddy into his arms. “She’s stable, at least.”

“Let me get you some soup. You must be in a hurry to get home.”

“Doctor’s orders. Lucrezia needs rest.”

 

When everyone had gathered at Aunt Angie’s dining room table, Lucrezia shared her bowl of wedding soup with Roddy, who sat happily in her lap.

“More, Mommy,” he chirped, smiling up at his mother.

Charmed, Lucrezia brought her spoon to the child’s open mouth.

“Look, Aunt Angie. See how much Roddy loves your soup,” she said, glancing over the child’s head.

“Give him all he wants. There’s always plenty.”

Aunt Angie stood and shuffled over to Lucrezia, bending and kissing her cheek.

“You’re a good girl.”

Lucrezia grasped Angie’s hand and brought it to her lips.

“I love you, Aunt Angie.”

 

Roddy fell asleep in his car seat on the way home. Cesare carried him to the apartment and laid him in his crib, removing his shoes and covering him lightly. Lucrezia changed into an apricot silk nightgown and retired to bed. Cesare stripped to his underwear and stretched out beside her, propped up on one elbow and caressing her belly with his free hand.

“You scared the shit out of me, Baby,” he murmured gently.

“I’m sorry, Darling. But I’m fine now. You should be at the hospital with Dad instead of fussing over me.”

“Micheletto and Uncle Tony are with him.”

“I know, but he needs you.”

“And I need to be with you.”

 

Angela.

_Antonio._

What have you done?

_Avenged my son. I loved him._

But Vannozza? I thought you love Vannozza.

_I do._

Then how could you…?

_To get back at you, Antonio. I would do anything to hurt you as you have hurt me. Even to Vannozza. Especially to Vannozza._

But why? What have I done to you?

_I know you brought about Junior’s murder. You may not have killed him yourself, but you caused it._

That’s crazy. Why would I kill my own son?

_Don’t insult me, Antonio. I have been your wife for fifty years. I know you. I know your mind._

Even had I done such a thing, why would you scheme to hurt Vannozza? She is blameless.

_What better way to hurt you than through your beloved niece? Is there anyone else you love as much?_

You hate me that much?

_I do now._

Who did this act for you?

_The Forcucci family._

The ones who specialize in assassinations. How did it come about?

_Maddalena Forcucci goes to the same church as I do. I saw her there when I went to confession. She agreed to take a message to her husband for me._

Holy Mother! You go to be absolved of your sins and at the same time plan murder! What kind of woman are you?

_The kind who has lived with you and learned from you. Don’t you dare point a finger at me, Antonio. You who thrive on violence and revenge._

Angie, I swear before God…

_Shame on you to blaspheme! God knows you lie, and I know too. Unlike you, I will admit what I did. I arranged for the Forcuccis to attack Vannozza. 'I don’t care if she lives or she don’t live,' I told them. 'It’s all the same to me,' I told them. 'Just go after her.'  I’m sorry about Raphael. He was--what do they call it?--collateral damage. You’ll see to it that his family is taken care of._

Yes, of course, I will. As I would any of my men. But Angie, you, of all people. My wife. My sweet angel.

_What do you think? Angie! Simple old woman, stays in the kitchen, causes no trouble. You can do whatever you want because I am a harmless old cow, a creature to be ignored. Obedient. Stupid. Having to take whatever you dish out because I am a woman, and your wife. And, up to now, I have, Antonio. I have done just that. I stayed apart from your business, even though I know how dirty it is. I looked the other way when I knew you were running around with showgirls in the nightclubs you operate. I swallowed my hurt and my humiliation. I kept to my home and my church and my family and left you free to do what you wanted to do. But this I cannot overlook. You murdered my boy. **My boy** , Antonio! My only son. I’ll never forgive you for that._

And I can never forgive you for harming Vannozza.

_Do you think I care? If I cared, I’d never have told you. You’d never have dreamed that I had anything to do with it. I **want** you to know what I did. We are broken, Antonio. Fifty years together, and it has come to this._

So what now?

_Now? Well, tomorrow I am leaving. For Italy. My brother and his wife await me._

Angela. No! You can’t leave. What would I do without you?

_I don’t know. And I don’t care. Get one of your showgirls to wash your clothes and cook your meals. Get one young enough to give you a son that you like well enough not to murder._

Angela. You are my wife. Fifty years…

_Yes. Fifty years. And that has not earned me enough regard from you that you will allow me the life of my son._

But look what he did to Lucrezia and the baby. He had to be stopped.

_You could have controlled him. He feared your displeasure._

Can’t you be realistic, Angela? See Junior for what he really was?

_He was my son. My flesh and blood. That’s all I need to see._

Angela. Don’t leave me. You are my life.

_No. I was never more to you than a convenience. An appliance. Like the refrigerator or the washing machine. Or the toilet. You don’t love me. You don’t respect me. I am done with you._

I do love you. Please.

_Stop it, Antonio. Our marriage is nothing more than an unburied body. It stinks. I will be rid of it._

Angela…

 _Vai all’inferno_.

 

The next morning, Cesare was in the kitchen feeding Roddy so that Lucrezia could get some extra sleep. The baby bounced in his high chair, delighted at the novelty of having his father setting his bowl of oatmeal in front of him. He banged his sippy cup of apple juice on the tray and laughed. Cesare’s cell phone vibrated and skittered across the table.

“Hello?”

“Cesare.”

“Uncle Tony. How are you?”

“Not so good, _Nipote_. Angela. She left me.”

_“What?”_

“She knew, Cesare. Somehow she knew about Junior.”

“She knew that I...”

“No, not you. But she knew that I brought it about. She can’t forgive me. She left me.”

“Oh, my God, _Zio_! This is terrible. Can’t we stop her? Change her mind?”

“No, _Nipote_. Her mind is made up. She’s flying to Italy today. Her plane may have already taken off.”

“She’s leaving the country? Oh, Uncle Tony! This is awful. What can I do? Would it help if I told her what I did? That you had nothing to do with it?”

“No, Cesare. Because I did have everything to do with it. I was so used to Angie going along with me that I thought I could fool her about Junior. That she would believe everything I told her, as she always seemed to. How wrong I was. She is so mad at me, _Nipote_. She hates me.”

“She couldn’t hate you, _Zio_. You’ve been married forever.”

“Fifty years. Fifty years where, because she was always meek and obedient, I thought I could do anything. I was so wrong.”

“She’ll come back, Uncle Tony. In no time, she’ll miss you and come back home.”

“I don’t think so. I told her when she left the house that she could come home whenever she wanted to, and she said she would return when Junior came back. And not until then.”

Cesare wiped his hand over his face.

“Lucrezia and I are going to the hospital in about an hour, Uncle Tony. Can you meet us there?”

“How is your mother?”

“The same. No better, but no worse.”

“Oh, _mio ragazzo_! I will come. There is something I must tell you. About Angie and your mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nipote -- Nephew  
> Vai all’inferno -- Go to hell


	19. Money Fixes Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein may be learned a truism

“No. It’s not possible!”

Rodrigo slumped backwards into his chair in the ICU waiting room.

“I won’t believe it, Tony. What happened to Vannozza was an accident. A horrible accident.”

Uncle Tony shook his head.

“It’s the truth. To get back at me, Angela set assassins upon our Vannozza. Poor Raphael was caught up in it too.”

Lucrezia let out a sharp breath.

“She took Roddy with her to your home. She carried him in her arms. She fed us at her table. She kissed me and fussed over me. And all the while, she had tried to kill Mom. Without even blinking, she looked us in the eye, knowing that Raphael was dead and Mom was lying in a coma because of her.”

“Yes, _Gattina_. That is so.”

“I never would have dreamed that Aunt Angie could be so dangerous. So cold-hearted.”

“I who lived with her for fifty years had no idea about her.” Uncle Tony began to cry. “Don’t blame her, Lucrezia. I treated her bad. I am so ashamed. If I had paid enough attention, I would have known better than to raise my hand against her son. Poor Junior wanted my approval. I should have taught him how to win it. Instead, I ignored him. Treated him with contempt. I should have been a better husband. A better father. Like you are, Rodrigo. Look at the son you raised. Smart. Loyal to you. Stays close to his family. You trust him. You’re proud to have him work with you in your business. If I had taken the time, like you did, to be a good father, to guide my boy and set an example, Junior might have turned out different.”

Uncle Tony’s bulky shoulders heaved with his weeping.

“ _Zio_ ,” Cesare reached out and put his hand on Uncle Tony’s knotted forearm. “I was a bad son. I fought with my father. Didn’t appreciate him.”

“You were young, Cesare. That’s all. You grew up good. You got a beautiful wife who loves you. A little boy and another one on the way. And you’re a good father too. I can see it.

Tony began to sob again.

“I can see so much now. Why couldn’t I see what I was doing to my own wife? My own son?”

 

After being comatose for six days, Vannozza regained consciousness without having any memory of the incident which nearly took her life. In addition to the extensive internal injuries and numerous bone fractures for which she required treatment, she was placed on anti-seizure medication due to her severe head injury. Rodrigo deemed it unwise to tell her about Raphael until she was stronger. She remained in hospital for several weeks and then was sent home in a wheelchair. Her broken legs would remain in casts for another three weeks and she would then require physical therapy. Her prognosis for a full recovery was guarded, but would be re-evaluated as she made progress.

Rodrigo arranged for nurses to care for Vannozza when she left the hospital, but, leaving Cesare in charge of the Firm, he himself stayed at home to be with her as well. Lucrezia came to help out, bringing Roddy, whose company cheered his grandmother.

“Sweetie,” Vannozza said one day, when Lucrezia had brought her iced tea and sat at her bedside, holding her hand, “Thank you for being here with me. Indulging me.”

“Indulging you? Mommy, you should have anything you want. When I think of how we almost lost you…”

Lucrezia’s voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears. She leaned over and kissed Vannozza’s cheek.

“Don’t cry, Sweetie. I’m still here. Getting better every day. Tell me again what happened.”

“You were on your way to the gym and a car hit you while you were crossing the street. It kept on going.”

“I’m starting to remember. Raphael was with me. He tried to shove me out of the way.”

“Yes.”

“What happened to him?”

“Mom. Please don’t think of that now.”

Roddy’s exuberant squeals were heard from the family room, where he was being tossed in the air by his grandfather.

“Listen to the two of them, Mom. Doesn’t it make you smile?”

“Lucrezia, I need to remember…”

“Don’t upset yourself. Please.”

“Lucrezia. What happened to Raphael? Tell me!”

“Mom…I’m so sorry. He was…he was…”

“No! Oh, I can’t bear it! He was killed trying to protect me.”

“Yes. I’m afraid so.”

Tears rolled down Vannozza’s fine-boned cheeks.

“Raphael! He had become my close friend. He told me about his wife. Four children, teenagers. A family deprived of their father. Their loving, caring husband and father.”

“Uncle Tony has provided for them.”

“How can anyone compensate them for the loss of such a man? What amount of money could be enough? He died for me. For _me_ , Lucrezia!”

“He was one in a million. An extraordinary man. We will never forget his sacrifice.”

“I’ll call his wife. See if there is anything I can do for her.”

“When you feel up to it, Mom. You’re still convalescing. You’re still in casts. Mom…Mom?”

Vannozza had frozen, staring ahead. Lucrezia jumped up from her chair.

“Nurse! Help! She’s having a seizure!”

 

In the family room, Roddy played on the floor with wooden blocks while his mother and grandfather sipped coffee and spoke quietly.

“She’s resting now, Dad. Nurse Kelly said it wasn’t a bad seizure. She shouldn’t suffer any ill effects from it.”

“But does this mean that her medication isn’t working?”

“According to her doctor, not necessarily. But he is going to do some further testing to see if Mom might need additional anti-seizure medication. Honestly, Dad, it’s my fault. Mom asked about Raphael, and I didn’t know how to get out of telling her. She got very upset. That probably brought on the seizure.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Little Girl. She had to find out sometime. The fact that she asked about him shows that she’s remembering a bit.”

“Mr. Borgia.” Nurse Kelly appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Borgia is asking for you.”

Rodrigo stood.

“Lucrezia, thank you for dealing with all this medical stuff for me. I lean on you too much.”

“We’re all in this together, Daddy. I’m so glad I can be of help. Please go see Mom now. Don’t keep her waiting.”

“I’ll send for you and Roddy in a little while.”

 

“Uncle Tony. It’s Lucrezia. I’m calling from Mom’s apartment. How are you?”

“Oh, so-so, _Gattina_. Better now that Laura and the girls have come to stay with me.”

“I’m glad they could do that.”

“What can I say? I need a woman to look after me. Just like your Cesare does.”

“You make me smile, Uncle Tony. I wanted to let you know that Mom is starting to remember a bit more about the…accident. I had to tell her about Raphael. It upset her very much.”

“Ah. Poor Raphael. How we all miss him! Did you tell her that I provided for his family?”

“I did, Uncle Tony. She appreciates that, but nothing can make up for his loss.”

“ _È vero_. Raphael was a good man. Is my _Principessa_ doing better, then?”

“She is. We will be taking her to get the casts on her legs removed next week. She can’t wait to be up and walking. Running after Roddy. Although she is very sad about Raphael, she is mostly in good spirits and hopeful.”

Uncle Tony sighed deeply.

“Hope. Huh! That is something I could use. Since Angie…”

He began to sob.

“Uncle Tony. Aw, please don’t. I’m so sorry I made you cry.”

“It’s not you, _Gattina_. I deserve to weep. I have much to atone for.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You always did what you believed to be best.”

“I was selfish. I made so many mistakes.”

“We all make mistakes, _Zio_. You’re a good man. I love you. How about I come over to see you?”

“Lucrezia. You are so dear to me. More than you can know. Come on over as soon as you can. I’ll send Micheletto with a car for you. Leave the _bambino_ with your father-in-law. You and your family have suffered so much. Yet there is something I must tell you. One final secret I must reveal.”

“What? A secret?”

“Sì. Come over and I will tell you all.”

 

Lucrezia arrived at the bungalow just in time to greet Laura and her daughters as they left to go shopping for clothes. The girls giggled in eager anticipation and promised to show Lucrezia their new finery.

“Don Antonio asked me to bring you to his office,” Micheletto murmured softly.

“Thank you. Cesare is looking forward to going to the firing range with you on Saturday. The two of you always seem to make quite an occasion of it when you go shooting together.”

“Cesare honors me by calling me ‘ _cugino_.’”

“That makes you my cousin too. We are so lucky to have you in our lives.”

“Thank you, _cugina_.”

“Stay for dinner on Saturday. I’ll make something special.”

“I would not want to put you to trouble in your condition.”

“Making dinner for my dear family is never trouble. Please come. Roddy loves to play with you.”

“I would be glad.”

Lucrezia gently kissed Micheletto on both cheeks and then entered Uncle Tony’s office. He rose from his overstuffed chair to greet her.

“ _Gattina. Dammi un bacio_. So glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Uncle Tony. Thanks for inviting me over.”

“Since you are _incinta_ , I won’t offer you my wine. How about some Pelligrino water?”

When Lucrezia had settled with her drink onto a small settee in Tony’s office, she reached for his big, hard hand and held it.

“You wanted to tell me a secret, _Zio_.”

“I don’t want to, _Gattina_ , but I have to. I should have told you long ago. But where to begin?”

“Begin somewhere, please, Uncle Tony. I’m getting nervous.”

“ _Bene._ I will tell. I was not always a doddering old man, _Gattina_. Once I was like your father-in-law, a mature man but still in his prime. Virile.”

“Uncle Tony, you still are…”

“Hush. I was a man, Lucrezia. An arrogant, vain man. I had a loving wife and a family but they were not enough for the man I thought I was.”

“Oh…”

“I had money, power, men kissed my hand in respect. I thought I should have as many women as I wanted. They were everywhere. Beautiful women. All I had to do was beckon. Showgirls. Cigarette girls. Call girls. Then I met a woman who made me lose my head. She was so beautiful. So fiery. So fascinating and unpredictable. I fell in love with her. Made her my mistress. Gave her a place of her own. Bought her things. Clothes. Furs. Jewelry. Took her out on the town. Nightclubs. Champagne and caviar. I was crazy about her. Then something happened.”

“What? What happened, _Zio_?”

“She told me she was pregnant. I was furious with her. She had promised me that would never happen. I realized that she had allowed herself to become pregnant to have a hold on me. I told her she had overplayed her hand and sent her packing. But with a trust fund. A generous one that should have allowed her and her child to live respectably. I warned her that I never wanted to hear from her again. She was smart enough to heed my words and disappeared from my life.”

“But, Uncle Tony! The baby. Didn’t you care about the baby?”

“I made provisions for the baby. What more could I do? At least, that’s what I told myself. Money fixes everything.”

“Do you know what became of her, your mistress?”

“I forgot about her. For over twenty years. Then one day, out of the blue, I saw her again.”

“Where, Uncle Tony?”

“At the reception Rodrigo and Vannozza gave for you and Cesare when you got married.”

“She was invited to the reception? How could that be? Who was she?”

“Vickie, _Gattina_. Your mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> È vero -- That is true  
> Dammi un bacio -- Give me a kiss  
> Incinta -- pregnant  
> Bene -- Fine


	20. Kissing Cousins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein another awful truth becomes known

“Uncle Tony. No. You can’t be saying that…”

“Yes, Lucrezia. You are my daughter. I knew it when I saw Vickie at the reception.”

“And you said nothing? You knew I was your…Oh, my God, Cesare and I are cousins! You knew that, and you said nothing.”

“What could I say? What was done, was done. To say anything would only cause pain. To Angie. To Vannozza. To you and Cesare.”

“You let me stay married to my own cousin.”

“Vannozza is your cousin. Cesare is your first cousin once removed.”

“Oh, well, that makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”

“Calm yourself. You don’t want to mark the baby. As it happens, where we live, it’s legal for cousins to marry. You love Cesare, don’t you? You’d want him anyway.”

“Yes, but…”

“ _Gattina_ , what I am sorriest about is what you suffered at the hands of your mother. Had I known, I’d never have left you with her.”

“How do you know about my past?”

“Vannozza told me. I nearly died. Poor little _Gattina!_ When I saw your mother at Vannozza’s apartment, I knew her immediately, and I realized that you were…mine. Up until then, Vickie hadn’t known that you and Cesare were related. I spoke to her. Promised her money to leave you alone, keep her mouth shut.”

“You gave her money too? She got Cesare and me to send her money every month. She kept saying she was broke.”

“Lucrezia, the trust fund I settled on her when I put her aside would have been more than enough for the rest of her life. She didn’t need any more. She was being greedy. After her death, I had my lawyer transfer the remainder of the trust into an account for your babies when they come of age.”

“Uncle Tony…forgive me, I just can’t bring myself to call you anything else…”

“I don’t deserve it, _Gattina_.”

“Uncle Tony. Who knows about this?”

“Just you and me.”

“I have to tell Cesare.”

“Do you? Does he need to know?”

“Of course he needs to know. We promised each other to never keep secrets.”

 

Cesare’s jaw dropped and he stared at Lucrezia for a long minute.

“Cousin? I’m your cousin?”

“Yes.”

A big bubble of frenetic laughter erupted from deep in his chest. He fell back into his chair.

“Oh my God! All this time, my own cousin! I’ve been banging my own cousin! My kids should call me ‘Uncle Daddy.’”

“Cesare…Cesare, please…”

“What next? What will you tell me next? “

“Cesare, for the love of God…”

Wrapping his arms around his aching ribs, Cesare continued to howl with laughter.

“This is too wonderful! Perfect. Just perfect. Of all the women in the world, my own cousin. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

“Cesare, stop laughing. It’s not funny.”

“Not funny? Not funny? Of course it’s funny. It’s hysterical. We’re so fucked up. All of us.”

“We’re not. Not you and me. We live in a jurisdiction where it’s legal for cousins to be married. So we’re all right. We don’t have to separate.”

“Separate?” Cesare’s voice became shrill. “What the hell are you talking about? Would you even _think_ of leaving me?”

“No, Cesare.”

“Because I’d never let you go. Never. Not even if we found out we were brother and sister. I need you, Baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

Cesare followed Lucrezia around for the rest of the day, incessantly blurting out wisecracks _._

“I have a yen to go out and rent an old Elvis Presley movie. ‘Kissing Cousins.’”

“Stop it, Cesare!”

“Would you prefer a French-language film? How about “Cousin Cousine?’”

“Stop!”

“Or there was that story by Balzac. ‘Cousin Bette.’ What was it that Hamlet said? ‘A little more than kin, and less than kind.’ And continuing in the Shakespeare vein, ‘O valiant cousin, worthy gentleman.’”

“Enough, dammit! You’re not funny. I’m not laughing.”

“Aw, come on. Just think about it. We’ve just discovered a whole new level of kinky in our sex life.”

Lucrezia, her nerves frayed, began to sob. Cesare pulled her close and embraced her.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I knew you were upset, and I was trying to make you laugh. Obviously, that’s not helping any. So let’s ask ourselves this: how are we going to tell Mom and Dad?”

“Oh, dear God, Cesare, must we tell them?”

“Well, you’re the one who always says we shouldn’t have secrets in the family. And, after all the shit our family has been through, I doubt this news will even faze them.”

Lucrezia sighed.

“You know, you’re probably right.”

 

Cesare was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Of all the gin joints..." from the film "Casablanca", directed by Michael Curtiz, Warner Brothers, 1942


	21. Another Head Of The Hydra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein may be found man-to-man conversations

“You can’t begin to tell your mother that!” Rodrigo bellowed at his son. “She’s in much too fragile a state to hear such a thing.”

“I know that, Dad. That’s why I’m telling you alone for now. Keep your voice down or Mom will hear. Lucrezia is keeping her occupied with Roddy in the bedroom so you and I can speak freely.”

“It will break your mother’s heart that you and Lucrezia have to divorce.”

“We’re not splitting up, Dad.”

“You can’t remain married. You’re cousins.”

“In this state, it’s perfectly legal for cousins to be married.”

“Bullshit! ‘Legal’ is not the same as ‘moral.’”

“Don’t you even presume to lecture me about what is moral. You, who would have committed murder with your own hand.”

“As compared to you, who actually did!”

Cesare could only sputter.

“All right. You have me there. But Lucrezia and I are married and we will remain married.”

“But you can’t. It’s incest. Your children are…oh, my god! Your children! Your children were conceived in incest.”

Cesare’s face flushed with indignation.

“My children were conceived in love. Incest?   Not by my definition.”

“It is by mine!”

“Dad, I said this to Lucrezia and I’ll say it to you: if she and I found out we were brother and sister, we’d still remain together. I love her. I’ll never give her up.”

“Well, I can’t accept this. My conscience won’t allow it.”

“Fine. Lucrezia and I will take Roddy and vanish from your life. You’ll never have to see us again.”

“You can’t do that! You’d break your mother’s heart.”

“We certainly don’t want to remain around to constantly trouble your sensibilities with our presence.”

“I beg you not to take your family away from us.”

“Well, what do you want me to do then, Dad?”

“Have patience, Cesare. I’m still in shock. Still processing this.”

“So am I. So is Lucrezia. It’s been a hell of a shock for us too. But, Dad, can you honestly tell me you’ll feel differently about her now? No longer love her?”

Rodrigo sagged back into his chair.

“No, of course not. She’ll always be my little girl. But God damn that Tony! This is all his fault. How could he have allowed this?”

“He didn’t know until he saw Lucrezia’s mother at the reception you gave us. Anyway, it’s not just Tony. You know that not one of us is an innocent. We’ve all been guilty of sins and transgressions. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The one person whose actions hurt only herself is the one person who thought herself too low to be worthy of the high and mighty Borgias. My poor, sweet Lucrezia. She’s too good for us.”

“What a fine family she has married into! She puts us all to shame.”

 

 Cesare looked up from his desk when he heard a knock at his office door and promptly broke into a broad smile when he saw Micheletto standing outside.

“Come in, come in. So glad to see you.”

“ _Cugino_.”

“Shut the door and sit down. What brings you here today?”

“I need to let you know about a ‘situation.’ It seems that there was an article to be published in a few days in the morning newspaper, claiming to reveal Donna Lucrezia’s true background and parentage.”

“What? How do you know this?”

“The gossip columnist has been ‘our friend’ at the newspaper for many years and alerts us to things which concern us. A reporter was given copies of tests and other information from the office of Lucrezia’s doctor. Tests which disclose a blood relationship between you and your wife. Between her and Don Antonio. Information which the two of you innocently communicated to the doctor so that he would be able to provide your child with the proper care.”

“You mean, the doctor betrayed us?”

“No, not the doctor. Nor most of his staff. We are satisfied of their complete dedication to your privacy. It was one of his technicians, who had access to your records. That person has been fired by the doctor and we have also called her to account.”

“How did you identify her?”

Micheletto chuckled.

“It wasn’t difficult, _Cugino_. Her bank records showed that three days ago, she deposited a check into her account for ten thousand dollars from the newspaper. Dishonest people are stupid. They think that everyone else is as stupid as they are. She has been dealt with.”

“How?”

“There will be found a paper trail indicating that she has left the country ahead of an indictment for stealing prescription pads and sample drugs from her employer’s office. We have ‘friends’ in the DEA who will help us with that. The FBI will uncover a closed-out bank account, a credit card receipt for a plane ticket, an empty closet at her apartment.”

“Cousin, what are you saying? That she’s been…?”

“Dealt with. And the newspaper story has been quashed. It will never be printed.”

Cesare’s head reeled. Another piece of dirty business conducted on his behalf!

“Micheletto, will this ever end? “ Maybe Lucrezia and I should just go public. Get it all out in the open and be done with it. Kill this hydra once and for all. I don’t think I can stand one more murder done in my name."

“Hush, _Cugino_. Recall that many more people are involved than just you and your wife. Your parents. Your children. Your uncle. The organization.”

“But, Micheletto, how many more people will have to die to protect our secrets?”

“Would you not be willing to go to any lengths to protect your family?”

“Of course. I would do anything. _Me. Myself_. But I cannot expect you and Uncle Tony to keep taking care of things for me.”

“ _Fermarlo!_ Are we not family? That is what we do. You have honored me by asking me to stand godfather to the child your wife carries in her womb. Are we not forever bound by such ties?”

“It’s not that, Micheletto. My conscience cannot bear that people are dead because of me.”

“Their own actions doomed them. Had they kept to their own business, they would never have been harmed.”

“I keep hearing that sort of thing from Uncle Tony, from you. Raphael said it too. But isn’t that blaming the victims?”

“What victims? People who set out to destroy an innocent woman and her child? A family? All of them, Victoria, Antonio Junior and his cohorts, the conniving medical technician, cared nothing about the harm they were causing. Do you really think they deserved other than what they got? We are not murderers, _Cugino_. Not psychopaths. But we are iron-willed when we are called upon to defend our family. Can you not see the truth in that? Look at Victoria. Don Antonio had provided well for her. She could have lived in quiet comfort, but she was greedy. Antonio Junior, an ungrateful and disobedient son. His men, disloyal and dishonorable soldiers. The technician, corrupt, willing to betray her employer and expose an innocent family to shame. What could we do but what we did?”

“But Micheletto, there are laws…”

“We have our own laws. They are far more just.”

“Cousin, I must be such a disappointment to you. My reactions must seem unmanly and weak.”

“Do you not know that I love you, _Cugino_? I understand that you and I differ. I respect you too much to hide things from you, will not tell pretty lies to you. But should my necessary actions cause pain to your conscience, I will always be there to explain myself to you and reassure you.”

Cesare stood and walked around his desk to embrace Micheletto.

“Cousin. _Cugino._ You are my friend.”

 

**_Item in the society column of the morning paper:_ **

_We were overjoyed to see the beautiful Vannozza (Mrs. Rodrigo) Borgia emerging from her posh apartment building on the stalwart arm of her adoring husband. Mrs. B’s radiant smile gave evidence of her recovery from a serious automobile accident._

_“I’m a very lucky woman,” she beamed. “My family surrounded me with such love and devotion. My doctors assure me I will be just fine.”_

_Accompanying the couple were handsome son Cesare and his stunning wife Lucrezia, whose baby bump appears ready to pop any time now._

_“Roddy is all set to become a big brother,” the lovely Mrs. Cesare told us. “He can’t wait.”_

_We wish this family, true American royalty, nothing but the best._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fermarlo -- Stop it!


	22. Cuginos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Micheletto confides a surprise

Cesare and Micheletto stopped at a sports bar to have lunch after a session at the shooting range one Saturday afternoon.

“I hope you don’t mind not going straight home, _Cugino_ ,” Micheletto said after they had given their orders to the server. “I would like to ask a favor of you.”

“Sure, of course. Anything.”

“Well, it’s this. I have proposed marriage to Laura and she has accepted. I would like you to be my best man.”

“You’re going to marry Uncle Tony’s daughter-in-law?”

“In six months’ time.”

“This is a surprise, Cousin. I had no idea you were even seeing each other.”

“We went about it very quietly, under Don Antonio’s oversight. He likes the match. It will provide a husband’s protection for Laura and a father’s guidance for her little girls.”

“What will it provide for Micheletto?”

“Me? Well, a family. A home. The Don approves.”

“You sound like you’re more interested in what the Don wants than what you want.”

“No, no. Not at all. Laura is a fine woman.”

“I’d expect to hear you describe the woman you love in more passionate terms.”

“I am not like you, Cesare. I am more restrained.”

“When I married Lucrezia, I was pie eyed over her. She was all I wanted, all I could think about. You’re telling me you’re getting married in a tone of voice that sounds more like you’re buying a car.”

“ _Cugino_ , are you trying to discourage me? I should think, as happily married as you are, that you would be glad for me.”

“I would be, if I felt that you were marrying the woman you love.”

“I am. Of course I am. Do you not agree that Laura is a lovely woman?”

“Yes, I do. And she deserves to be happy, after being married to that pig, Tony Junior.”

“I will take good care of her. The girls have grown close to me. They already call me ‘Papa.’ I am so pleased that they do. Imagine me, a family man.”

“You’ll be a great dad. You’ll cherish those little girls, spoil them rotten.”

“I already do. And do the same for their mother.”

“Then I am glad for you, Cousin. I would be honored to be your best man.”

The two men clasped hands.

“I hope you are as happy as I am, Micheletto,” Cesare said. “Every day with Lucrezia is like being in heaven.”

“Everyone can see that. I look forward to making a life with Laura and the little girls. Don Antonio has consented to live with us, so we are moving into a larger house in a community with good schools.”

“Uncle Tony will move in with you?”

“Laura and the children have been looking after him since Donna Angela…went to Italy. The girls love their _nonno_. It will be convenient.”

Cesare’s smile was tight.

“Yes. Convenient.”

 

Cesare Borgia Junior came into the world on a clear, sunny day that his mother took as an omen.

“He’ll be the joy of my life, the light of my days,” she declared in the delivery room as the newborn was placed into her eager arms.

Beside her, Cesare Senior gazed at his son through teary eyes.

“He’s amazing, Lucrezia,” he murmured. “He looks just like Roddy.”

Lucrezia caressed her husband’s cheek.

“You make beautiful sons, my love.”

Cesare, having a bit more experience with childbirth, had managed to stay awake this time. It had helped that Lucrezia and the baby obliged him by requiring only a four-hour labor to accomplish an early afternoon delivery.

 

As the birth was uncomplicated, Lucrezia and the baby went home the next day. Cesare insisted upon hiring a live-in nurse to look after her and the baby because his mother was still convalescing from her injuries and unable to exert herself too much. It broke Vannozza’s heart, but she had to admit that she wasn’t yet quite up to providing much in the way of help. She and Rodrigo were there, however, to welcome the young family home to their apartment. Roddy jumped down from his grandfather’s lap and ran to his parents when he saw the door open.

“Mommy,” he cried. “Hug me. I missed you. Can I see my brother now?”

Lucrezia beamed a delighted smile and bent to embrace her elder son.

“Come sit on the sofa and Daddy will put Chezza in your arms. Then your grandparents can meet him too.”

Roddy proudly received the baby and turned his face to his grandmother.

“Look, Grandma. I have a little brother.”

“He’s wonderful, Roddy. He looks just like you did.”

“Was I ever that little?”

“Yes, but not for long. You grew and grew. Chezza will too, I think. Let’s let Grandpa hold him now, shall we?”

A visibly excited Rodrigo held out his arms as his eyes welled up with tears.

“What joy you bring us, my darling Lucrezia,” he crooned softly.

“Well, Cesare deserves at least half of the credit, Dad. You only have to look at these boys to see his contribution.”

“Mommy,” Roddy’s piping voice proclaimed. “Daddy missed you too. He couldn’t fall asleep until he came and got me and put me into your bed with him. Then we both slept good.”

Although his family was charmed by the revelation, Cesare blushed.

“That was supposed to be our secret, my man,” he admonished the child.

Chezza began to fuss.

“Could you help me, Mrs. Watters?” Lucrezia said. “I’m going to feed the baby now. He probably needs changing too.”

Crestfallen, Vannozza watched Mrs. Watters follow Lucrezia into the bedroom.

“Mrs. Watters,” she called to the nurse. “Please make sure she changes into something comfortable. A warm nightgown or a robe.” She sighed heavily. “I should be the one helping Lucrezia. I didn’t even come to the hospital to see her. I’m just useless.”

“Mom,” Cesare covered his mother’s hand with his own. “You have no idea how much your being here means to us. In the car, on the way home, all Lucrezia could talk about was how excited she was to see you and show the baby to you. Since she was only going to be in hospital overnight, Lucrezia didn’t want you to go to the trouble of coming there. But here at our place, well, you can be relaxed and hold Chezza and fuss over him all you want. Lucrezia needs you, Mom. Your presence. Your love. We both need you.”

Rodrigo drew his wife close and hugged her.

“Every good thing in my life has come from you. I don’t tell you often enough how much I love you.”

“Stop, Rodrigo. You’re making me cry.”

Roddy crawled onto Vannozza’s lap.

“Don’t cry, Grandma. Don’t be sad.”

She embraced her grandson, kissing his soft dark hair.

“I’m not sad, sweetie. I’m crying because I’m so happy.”

The child, perplexed, looked up into his father’s face. Cesare smiled and shook his head gently.

“Don’t try to understand women, Roddy. We men never will.”

 

On her first night home from the hospital, Lucrezia, having placed a sleeping Chezza in his crib, lay in bed with Cesare, snuggling in his arms. He pressed his lips to her soft hair.

“I’m so glad to have you back home, honey. I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too. And Roddy. It made me happy to know that you were able to comfort each other while I was away.”

“That little traitor. He wasn’t supposed to say anything about that. He made me look like a wuss. Like I can’t stand to spend even one night away from you.” He chuckled. “Although it’s true. I don’t know what I would have done if you had had to be in the hospital any longer than you were.”

“I was miserable and homesick too. A kind nurse let me keep Chezza with me all the time or I would have done nothing but cry.” Lucrezia reached up to caress Cesare’s cheek. “If we have any more babies, I want to have them at home, with a midwife.”

“Whatever my lady desires. But do you want to have more kids?”

“I do indeed, my love. Meantime, let’s take the best care we can of Roddy and Chezza and be happy together.”

“We will. Mom was disappointed not to visit you at the hospital, but I really thought it best for her if she came here today.”

“I agree. She’s still got a long way to go towards recovery. You sent photos of Chezza to her phone. At least she got to see those.”

“Um, Baby, speaking of phone…I got a call today from Uncle Tony. He wants to see you.”

Lucrezia sighed. “I guess I should ask him to come over.”

“Honey, if you don’t want him to, then I’ll tell him so.”

“No, darling. He’s my…father, after all. He’s trying hard to make it up to me for the past. And he really does care about the babies. I told you that he set up a trust fund for them.”

“Yeah. Big deal. ‘Money fixes everything.’ That’s his credo. He’s still manipulating everyone around him. Forcing Micheletto and Laura to get married to suit his own convenience.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t what Micheletto wants? He says marriage to Laura will give him a home and a family. What’s wrong with that?”

“If I believed that marrying Laura was truly what he wants, I’d be thrilled for him. But I think it’s what Uncle Tony wants, and Micheletto has such an overdeveloped sense of duty that he’ll go along with it. You should have heard him when he told me about his engagement. His voice had all the excitement and animation of a robocall.”

“Well, what about Laura? Doesn’t she have a say in this?”

“She’s going to abide by Uncle Tony’s wishes because she’s financially dependent on his organization. He wants her off his conscience, so he’s made an arrangement for her and her kids to be taken care of. And himself in the bargain. Believe me, honey, I’d love nothing more than for Micheletto to have the kind of happiness I have with you and our boys. But I just don’t see it.”

“I don’t mean to sound harsh, Cesare, but what if Micheletto’s devotion to Uncle Tony is such that carrying out his wishes is gratification enough for him? Having that approval might be the most important thing in the world for him. More important than romantic love or anything else.”

“You’re probably right, Baby, but it just kills me to see Micheletto sacrifice his life to the whims of a selfish old bastard who is only too happy to use people to further his own aims. And what about Laura? Doesn’t she deserve better than a marriage of convenience? Oh, she and Mick will have a nice, polite, workable life together. He will be a perfect gentleman of a husband, courtly and considerate and faithful, because that is how he is supposed to be. She will be a perfect wife, keeping a spotless and well-organized home. Who knows? They may even have children together, because that’s part of the expectations of marriage. But love? Passion? Not a bit of it. I couldn’t stand such a lifeless life.”

Just then, Chezza stirred and gave a thin little wail. His father got up out of bed and went to him, picking him up from his crib.

“His diaper is wet, Lucrezia. I think that made him feel cold, so I’m going to change him and wrap him up snugly. Let’s see if he goes back to sleep.”

“If he doesn’t, just bring him to me.”

As Lucrezia watched her husband’s long body bend over the tiny baby on the changing table, saw his long fingers deftly manipulate the diaper pins, she sighed, overwhelmed with love.

“Cesare Borgia, you are the greatest man on the face of the earth,” she called softly as he carried the newborn to their bed.

“I think he’ll be happier if he’s close to us.”

“You’re right. Now please try to go to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep late tomorrow. I promise. And you do the same. Mrs. Watters can look after Roddy, get breakfast for him. See, honey. Chezza is already settled down.”

“He knows he’s safe in the loving arms of his father, my darling. And I feel safe there too.”


	23. A Day, A Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein may be found conjugal matters

Micheletto and Laura were married on a warm October day that seemed to promise much for the couple.

“Why are you fretting, darling?” Lucrezia had asked Cesare as she helped him into his tuxedo jacket before they left for the church. “Are you still convinced that Micheletto is making a mistake?”

“I am, Baby. Nothing has happened to make me change my mind. This whole wedding thing is a travesty. Laura hired a hoity-toity planner, for God’s sake. Everything is, oh, so polished, oh, so correct. All the bases touched. All the bells and whistles. Everything is there but genuine emotion.”

“Well, what’s wrong with Laura having a big, splashy wedding if that’s what she wants?”

“We didn’t have one, but we’re well married, aren’t we?   I didn’t give a shit about putting on some show. And neither did you, if I remember correctly.”

“You remember perfectly. All I wanted was you. But some women, and men too, want the whole nine yards.”

“I just have a bad feeling about this. All this energy and expense and planning going into one single day. What about tomorrow, and the day after that? What about next year, five years from now, ten years? Isn’t a marriage more important than a wedding?”

“I agree with you, Cesare, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Micheletto and Laura are adults. They’ve made this decision.”

“Did you know that Uncle Tony and the girls are going on the honeymoon with them? Can you imagine? How romantic will that be?”

“Well, Micheletto has different expectations from marriage. He says he wants a family and he’s got one ready-made. You’ve seen how Angelina and Natalia cling to him. Imagine it from their point of view. What kind of a father did they have in Junior? Do you think he cared about them? Micheletto dotes on them, treats them like little princesses.”

“That’s wonderful. But he’s entering into a business arrangement with their mother. A business arrangement. Nothing more.”

 Laura’s wedding planner had arranged for the reception to be held at the elegant event room of a stately fin de siècle greenhouse conservatory famous for having hosted presidential state dinners and for receiving visitors from all over the world. From a distance or up close, the graceful sweep of the conservatory was breathtaking.

“I have to admit,” Rodrigo commented upon entering the venue, “that this was a really impressive choice. People will be talking about it for a long time to come.”

The Borgias were seated with Uncle Tony at a circular table near the bridal station where Cesar, installed at Laura’s right, gazed over at his wife with longing eyes. His black tuxedo was expertly tailored to emphasize his graceful torso and long legs. His white, pleated-front shirt could not conceal the lean, hard chest that lay beneath it, nor the arms that Lucrezia knew were strong and muscular but encircled her so tenderly and protectively when he embraced her. She wanted to go to him and stroke his lush dark curls and lightly bearded chin, but she held herself in check.

_'Would I have fallen for him if he were not so beautiful?’ she wondered. ‘Probably, but in truth, it was his looks that made me first notice him. God, that sounds so shallow, but…Well, he **is** beautiful. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that?’_

 With exquisite attention to detail, the floral centerpieces were understated, perfectly arranged and low enough to not impede conversation. The table linens were heavy damask in a subdued ivory color. The chairs were draped with the same fabric and tied behind with large bows of robins-egg blue, the identical shade of the bridesmaid’s dresses.

“Do you wish you and Cesare had had something like this, Sweetie?” Vannozza asked Lucrezia, fearing that the young woman may feel cheated when contemplating all the opulence around her.

“Heavens, no, Mom! All I wanted was Cesare. It’s like he says: a wedding is only for a day, but our marriage is for a lifetime.”

“Lucrezia is such a sensible, practical girl.” Rodrigo patted her hand approvingly.

“It’s fine to be sensible, of course,” Vannozza replied. “But what’s wrong with a bit of romance?”

“We have it, Mom. Just like you and Daddy.”

“If you want, _Gattina_ ,” Uncle Tony said, turning to Lucrezia, “Rodrigo and I will make you and Cesare a big to-do for your anniversary. We could even have it here, if you want.”

“Oh, Uncle Tony, thank you but no. This is Laura’s venue and hers alone. I’d love to have a celebration of our anniversary, but I’d want something small and private. Just family. Although,” she laughed, “Our family does keep growing.”

Chezza, seated on his mother’s lap, crowed when he heard her amusement and clapped his hands. Lucrezia gazed down at his rounded face and her heart melted.

“What a wonderful blessing you are,” she crooned, kissing him. “Both of my boys. I’m so lucky.”

Roddy, dressed in a miniature tuxedo as the ceremonial ring bearer, climbed down from his grandfather’s lap and came around to claim a hug from his mother.

Uncle Tony felt his eyes well up with emotion. Such a contrast to his own family. His wife gone, his treacherous, disloyal son dead and buried. Well, he had Laura and her girls, and Micheletto too. A true son, who would remain close and protect the interests that Tony had fought to build. Micheletto would be a good son, husband and father. And there was Lucrezia. No, she did not call him “father,” but someday, perhaps she would. He would try hard to deserve that. He would try to atone for all those terrible years when he had put her out of his mind and allowed her to know the torments of hell. Look at her now, his beautiful _Gattina_ , cradling her little _cherubini_. Such a miracle. Tony had been given a second chance for a loving family. He would not wreck things this time.

“Cesare hates being over there at the head table away from you,” Vannozza remarked to Lucrezia. “He looks miserable.”

Roddy had returned to his grandfather’s lap.

“Pap-Pap, I want my daddy,” the child complained.

“He has to sit with Uncle Micheletto for now, Roddy. He’d rather be with us, though. He’ll come over as soon as he can.”

“When, Pap-Pap?”

“After some people make speeches and we eat our dinner. Not too much longer.”

Vannozza stroked Roddy’s curls, the same shade of dark brown as his father’s.

“What a wonderful job you did as ring bearer,” she told her grandson. “You didn’t seem the least bit scared walking down the aisle, and you didn’t drop the rings either. We were so proud of you.”

“After church, Uncle Micheletto gave me a five-dollar bill, Grandma,” the child declared. “He said I did good and he thanked me.”

“Goodness, five dollars! What will you do with all that money?”

“Just put it in my bank for now, Grandma.”

“What a smart idea.”

Uncle Tony stood and reached for Roddy’s hand.

“Come with me, _Nipotino_. We will go over and see your papa now.”

As Tony and Roddy made their way to the head table, Vannozza leaned over to Lucrezia and spoke quietly.

“Laura told me that the family is going to Italy for their…I really can’t call it a ‘honeymoon,’ so I’ll just say ‘their trip.’”

“Italy?” Lucrezia exclaimed. “Will they be seeing Aunt Angie?”

“No. They’re going to Rome. Nowhere near where she’s living.”

Lucrezia furrowed her brow.

“It baffles me the way Uncle Tony just seems to have forgotten about her, after all those years they spent together.”

Vannozza sighed.

“He hasn’t forgotten, Sweetie, but he’s a practical man. She’s not coming back to him, so he’s had to move on.”

Rodrigo reached to take his wife’s hand.

“Well, I say good riddance to that woman. After what she tried to do to you…”

Vannozza shook her head.

“Let’s think only happy thoughts tonight,” she said soothingly. “We’re here to celebrate.”

As soon as etiquette permitted, Cesare left the bridal table and made a beeline to his wife, leading her out onto the dance floor after she handed Chezza to his grandmother.

“Christ, I thought those speeches would never end,” he grumbled. “I couldn’t wait to get over to you.”

“Your toast was lovely, Darling. So heartfelt.”

“Well, I meant what I said about Micheletto. I still don’t feel good about this marriage, but I accept that it’s what he wants.”

“You’ll be there to give him whatever support he needs. He surely knows that.”

“I hope so, Baby.” He pulled her close to him. “You look so gorgeous in that gown. I love how you look in pink.”

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Roddy came running across the floor, his arms outstretched. With a wide grin, Cesare scooped him up. He and Lucrezia continued to dance with their son held between them.

After a two-week trip to Rome and Tuscany, the Corella family settled into a large, handsome red brick home in a stylish gated community out of the city. Angelina and Natalia loved their new house and their new school and set about making friends. Uncle Tony was driven every day that weather permitted to a nearby park where he joined other retired men to play checkers and bocce ball, laughing and chatting about grandchildren and tomato gardens.  

Being married to Micheletto seemed to agree with Laura. Once never seen in anything but capri pants and sneakers, with her hair in a ponytail, she now adopted an understated sheen, a polish nurtured by beauty and fashion consultants. She began to go out in public, lunching with Vannozza and Lucrezia, visiting antique shops and attending plays and concerts together.   Laura began to volunteer at the library and soon was asked to serve as a board member. Most gratifying of all to her was learning that her interest and excitement in these new activities was met with pleasure and encouragement by her husband. Micheletto listened attentively to her as they sat at their dinner table with Angelina and Natalia, discussing her ideas and plans.

“Your face lights up when you talk about these things, _cara mia_ ,” he said gently to her, reaching for her hand. “I like to see it. You look so pretty.”

Her first husband had belittled her efforts to discover her abilities. He had mocked her cruelly, undermining her self-worth. Sometimes he had reacted with a hard slap when he felt she had gone beyond what he allowed her.

The day that Micheletto came home unexpectedly early to attend a library meeting with her, Laura broke into uncontrolled tears. He had held her in his arms, desperate to know what was wrong.

“I can’t tell you,” she had sobbed. “You can’t know what this means to me. I was always nothing. Nothing.”

“ _Tesoro,_ in the past, you were treated badly. I can see that. You are my wife now. Your daughters are my children. I am at peace in the home which you make for me. Your concerns are my concerns.”

She raised her head and looked into his earnest face and smiled tremulously.

“Now,” he declared, dabbing at her cheeks with his handkerchief, “No more weeping. You have a meeting to attend.”

He was dressed in a quietly elegant grey suit and tucked Laura’s hand into the crook of his arm when he escorted her into the library conference room where the board members were gathering. Heads snapped up when they entered.

A very petite, birdlike woman who appeared to be in her seventies stood up to greet Laura. She wore false eyelashes, a Chanel suit and heavy gold and diamond jewelry on her gnarled hands with their arthritic knuckles and ropy blue veins. She was so thin as to appear emaciated, and her hair was skinned back from her bony face into a tight grey bun.

“Mrs. Corella,” she exclaimed, her bright red mouth stretching over large capped teeth. “How nice to see you.”

She approached Laura and air-kissed both sides of her face.

“Mrs. Whitney,” Laura replied. “I’d like you to meet my husband, Michele Corella. Mrs. Whitney is the president of the library board.”

Micheletto inclined his head solemnly.

“A pleasure, Madame.”

“Oh, Mr. Corella. We just love your dear little wife. She’s brought us such good ideas.”

“Laura speaks with great enthusiasm about the library, Mrs. Whitney. I have come here today with her to see if I can be of any assistance. I only want to observe, if I may, not to interfere.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr. Corella. Please have a seat at the table.”

“Stay the fuck outa the papers,” Don Antonio had exhorted his men, and Micheletto always lived by that credo. When he described himself to the library board members as a businessman, they accepted his claim, for they knew nothing else about him. They could see that his clothes were expensive, his manners refined and old-world, and that he had given his chic, pretty wife a very large but tasteful platinum engagement ring and wedding band. That, to their reckoning, qualified him to sit among them.

Driving home, Laura shyly thanked Micheletto for attending the meeting with her.

“I hope you weren’t too bored, Michele,” she said softly.

“Not bored at all, _cara mia_. It made me proud to see you there, speaking your mind. You came well prepared. The library means a lot to you, does it not?”

“It does. Nobody ever asked my opinion or listened to me before. Now I’m feeling like I can bring some fresh perspectives to the library board. Bring in some new funding.”

“If it’s money you need, Laura, I can provide you with all you require.”

She impulsively reached for Micheletto’s hand but then, startled at herself, drew back.

“That’s so sweet of you, but I really wanted to do this myself. You know, do all the stuff you have to do to pay your dues, so to speak. Earn the respect of the board members. On my own.”

“Of course. As you wish. But while I was listening to the discussions, I had a thought. Although the library appears to be well equipped, it does seem to lack in facilities for children. Perhaps you would like to organize an event to raise funds for greater children’s activities. I will be glad to help in any way I can.”

“How perceptive of you to notice that there are few services for kids.”

“Well, now that I am a father, perhaps I have become more aware of such things.”

"Michele, you amaze me.”

“You have amazed me too, _cara mia_ , with your intelligence and dedication to your chosen cause. Think how proud the girls will be when I tell them about their mama’s work.”

“Oh, Michele, don’t say anything. They won’t care.”

“Why would they not? Isn’t it concern for them which motivates you to want to improve the library? They should know about your efforts on their behalf.”

Laura blushed with pleasure.

“You really think I’m doing something worthwhile?”

“I do. Seeing you today at the meeting made me even more convinced. I will be honored to assist with your work.”

Laura timidly laid her hand on Micheletto’s arm and he gently patted it.

“Let’s take the girls out to dinner,” he remarked, “And talk about the library. Perhaps they have some suggestions as to what they would like to have added there.”

 When the family arrived home from dinner, Angelina and Natalia bathed and went to bed. Their parents tucked them in, thanking them for contributing their creative ideas about the library. In the hallway, Micheletto gently kissed Laura’s cheek and, wishing her a good night, retired to his room. Curled up in her cold bed in her own room, she recalled with regret that she had been the one to insist upon a 'mariage blanc.' Was it too late, she wondered, to reconsider?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cherubini -- little cherubs  
> Nipotino -- little nephew  
> Cara mia -- my dear  
> Mariage blanc -- unconsummated marriage; marriage in name only
> 
> Photograph of Phipps Conservatory, Pittsburgh, PA, USA


	24. Two Angies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Don Antonio's two Angies play a role

“Papa, here’s my report card,” Natalia exclaimed, rushing to Micheletto as he and Laura met her at the school bus stop. “I got three As and two Bs. I brought up my math grade this time.”

“That’s wonderful, _cucciola_! Your mother and I are so proud of you.”

“I got my report card too, Papa.” Angelina waved an envelope in the air. “I did extra credit and got an A+ in English.”

“Did you hear that, _cara mia_?” Micheletto addressed Laura. “Our girls have done so well. How should we reward them?”

“With kisses, Michele,” Laura replied, smiling. “And maybe a special dessert after dinner.”

Her heart swelled as she watched her husband shepherd Angelina and Natalia inside. Michele’s eyes were glowing with pride and affection as the girls clung to him. No wonder they loved him.

 

“Will I have a scar?” Natalia asked her mother anxiously as she lay in the hospital emergency room bed. A doctor was preparing to stitch her torn lip, which she had injured in a fall at the playground.

“You won’t,” a sweet-faced nurse assured the child. “Doctor Peterson is our best plastic surgeon. You’ll be good as new.”

In the hallway, Micheletto’s voice could be heard.

“Where is my family? What room are they in?” he demanded of an intern.

“Please, Mr. Corella, keep your voice down. They’re right in here.” The young doctor drew back the curtain surrounding Natalia’s bed.

“Papa!” she cried. “You came. You came to me.”

“Of course I came,” Micheletto declared, kissing her cheek. “My little _cucciola_ is hurt. Your mother and I will look after you.”

He drew close to Laura and slipped his arm around her waist.

“ _Cara mia_ , I’m so glad you called me. How did this happen?”

“She fell in the playground during a game of soccer and hurt her lip. She needs a few stitches.”

“Are you scared, Natalia?” Micheletto asked.

“Not anymore, Papa. You’ll make it all right.”

“I will hold your left hand and Mama will hold your right. If anything hurts, squeeze my hand and we will stop for a few minutes until you feel ready to go on.”

Natalia’s lip was successfully stitched, and healed without a visible scar.

“You see, _cucciola_ ,” her father pronounced affectionately, holding a mirror up to her face. “You are as beautiful as ever.”

Laura’s heart swelled.

 

When Micheletto heard the voice on the other end of the telephone, he tensed, for he knew it could not be good.

“Don Marco,” he began, speaking Italian. “How is…”

“She’s gone, Michele. Angela is gone.”

“How? When?”

“Just now. Earlier, she complained of not feeling well and we took her to hospital. The doctors said it was her heart. She went so fast. My poor sister!”

“Don Antonio will be heartbroken. Did she say anything before she passed? Did she ask for him?”

“No. Michele. She said nothing. Only that she felt sick. She lost consciousness quickly after she was admitted. The doctors tried and tried to revive her. You know, she was never the same after… Junior. I think she didn’t want to go on any more.”

“My condolences, Don Marco. Arrangements must be made to send her home. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know what to say, Michele. While she yet lived, she made me swear upon our mother’s grave that I would not tell Antonio about her passing. ‘Don’t send me back there, Marco’, she said. ‘To America. To Antonio.’ She begged me. I already broke one promise to her. Her husband deserves to know that she’s gone. But I don’t want to break the other vow.”

Micheletto sighed.

“I will inform Don Antonio of her passing. But he must not be made to bear the additional grief of having her laid to rest so far away from him. He is still her husband. Make the arrangements, Don Marco.”

“As you say, Don Michele.”

“Thank you, my friend. You are kind to call. The Don will remember that.”

“He is a good man. I feel bad for him, that Angie left him.”

“A sad thing, Don Marco. But not our place to judge. Call me soon to let me know what is happening.”

 

Tony collapsed into a chair and wept when Micheletto told him the news of Angie’s death.

“My wife. My poor wife. To the very end, she hated me, Micheletto.”

“Don Antonio, that’s not true.”

“Did she ask for me? No, she died without a thought of me.”

“You don’t know that. Don Marco said she went quickly, without a word. She had no chance to speak. When she is home and laid to rest, Don Antonio, you will be able to visit her whenever you like.”

“Let her stay in Italy, where she can rest in peace.”

“Would you travel there, then, for her funeral? But she is on her way even now.”

“Well, then, you and Laura see to things, will you? My heart is too heavy. _Ragazzo_ _mio._ Be good to your wife. Make her happy. Don’t lose her like I lost Angie.”

“I am so sorry, Don Antonio. You tried your best. You did what had to be done.”

“I thought I did right, but now I’m not so sure. I acted to protect my business, my organization. But was my business worth more to me than my wife? Now all I have is my business, and it doesn’t seem like much. I have no wife, no family.”

Micheletto knelt at Tony’s feet.

“You have a family, Don Antonio. You will always have your grandchildren. Donna Vannozza. Lucrezia. Laura. And me. I love you as my father.”

Sobbing, Tony embraced Micheletto.

"Micheletto _._ My son.”

 

A steady line of mourners came to pay respects to Angie at the funeral home, which was filled with flowers and tributes. Attendees to her requiem mass filled the church and overflowed onto the sidewalk.  At Tony’s request, no obituary was published.

 

A week after the funeral, Tony suffered a stroke.

 

Angelina had run screaming to her mother that Nonno had fallen in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. Laura, rushing to Tony, realized that he was in serious trouble and immediately summoned paramedics who carefully transported him to hospital.

Micheletto was grim-faced as Tony’s attending physician spoke to him.

“Your father-in-law has had a severe stroke, but the good news is that he survived it. Your wife’s quick action in getting him medical help went far towards mitigating the effects of the stroke. I can’t guarantee that he will make a complete recovery, but there is much we can do to help him. Physical therapy, speech therapy, things like that. I recommend that he be sent to a nursing home where he can receive the kind of care he will need.”

“No, absolutely not,” Laura insisted. “We will look after him at home, won’t we, Michele? We will bring in nurses, therapists, whatever he requires.”

“My wife is right, Doctor. Don Antonio will rest more comfortably at home. When can he be released?”

“I’d like to keep him here for a few days yet, Mr. Corella, to monitor him. After that, we can discuss plans for his recovery and rehabilitation.”

When the doctor departed, Micheletto embraced Laura and kissed her forehead.

“Did you hear what he said, _cara mia_? You saved the Don’s life.”

“It was Angelina who found him, Michele. She came and got me at once. We owe the child so much.”

“I am blessed to have you and the girls…”

“We will take care of Papa, and of each other. It’s what families do.”

 

Tony’s recovery was slow, but steady. An army of health care professionals saw to his needs, and Laura and the girls to his wants. Angelina sneaked into his room to share with him the chocolate-covered peanuts he favored but was not supposed to have.

“Just a couple, _Nonno_. That can’t hurt, can it?”

He chuckled. Although his speech was impaired, he knew that Angelina would listen patiently until she understood him.

“They make me happy, _Gattina_. I do better when I’m happy.”

She hugged her grandfather.

“I like to make you happy. I want you to get better.”

“I will. For you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cucciola -- puppy


	25. Micheletto's Mack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Micheletto finds that wearing the crown can chafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks and an affectionate wink to Loveyhowl for the use of your title

Lying naked, sprawled upon his bed with Lucrezia nestled in the crook of his arm, Cesare inhaled deeply, overwhelmed by a surfeit of sensations. The warmth of her bare skin against his. The softness of her hair. The light pressure of her hand lying on his chest. Her taste clinging to his lips. The heavy brew of sweat and spit and sex that hung in the air over and around them.

_Goddam!_

It had begun innocuously, in the living room. Roddy had fallen asleep in his father’s lap while Lucrezia had soothed Chezza into slumber in the rocking chair. Cesare had carried Roddy, already bathed and dressed in pajamas, into his room and Lucrezia had laid the baby in his crib in the nursery. They had bumped into each other while exiting their children’s respective rooms and that inadvertent collision seemed to have the same effect as two atoms slamming together. A prodigious burst of energy that hurled them into each other’s arms. Kissing ferociously, they rushed to their bedroom and flung themselves onto the bed, kicking off shoes, clawing at buttons and zippers, flinging garments across the room, rolling over and over each other as they squirmed to press their bodies ever closer together. On his back, Cesare groaned aloud when Lucrezia straddled him and grasped his cock, lowering herself down onto it. Her body had changed somewhat since her pregnancies, growing fuller, riper, rounder, more voluptuous. He reached for her breasts, sliding his fingers over their lush softness. She gripped his hands with hers, pushing them down onto the pillow on either side of his head, and leaned forward, kissing his open mouth. Arching over Cesare’s torso, she rocked her pelvis back and forth, drawing terse grunts from him. Her own breathing was rapid and shallow until she suddenly stopped moving and emitted a soft whimper. Beneath her, Cesare closed his eyes and gave a short bark of satisfaction, for he knew she had gone over the edge. She had been fulfilled. Lucrezia, his woman. Her body drooped against his. Her lips sought his.

“Cesare, my Cesare.”

Sated , compliant, she let him turn her over onto her back and begin thrusting.

“Mine,” he whispered against her throat. “You’re mine.”

“Yes, darling, yes. Give it to me. Now. Come in me.”

Which he did. Quickly. Hugely. Shatteringly.

Exhausted from their exertions, they now lay together, their breathing returning to normal, the sweat drying on their bodies. Her pubic patch was flecked with his seed, which had spilled out onto the bedspread, smelling rich and humid and loamy.

_Goddam!_

He shuddered, causing Lucrezia to raise her head and gaze questioningly into his eyes.

“What is it, darling? Are you all right?”

“God, yes! I’m just coming back down from off the ceiling. You are incredible.”

He pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin.

“Are you cold, Baby? Let’s get under the covers.”

Snuggled beneath the bedclothes, cradled in her husband’s arms, Lucrezia quickly dozed off, but Cesare lay awake, wheels spinning in his brain.

That had been seismic. Volcanic.

Elemental. Animal. Carnality at its most primitive.

Shagging. Humping. Fucking.

A disquieting notion wormed its way through his bedazzled head.

_Micheletto._

Did Micheletto and Laura know this kind of passion? Might their bedroom be their own nuclear reactor? Might they grind together in the throes of lust as he did with Lucrezia, beyond decorum, beyond manners, beyond _politesse_?

Would Micheletto ever feel the joy of total abandonment, of being swept away, overwhelmed by the body and the soul of his beloved?

Would he ever get to be something other than Uncle Tony’s faithful work horse, endlessly pulling the plow to which he was harnessed, the plow of duty and obligation? Would he ever look up from that endless furrow and see that there was something more?

 

Lucrezia’s sonogram indicated that she was carrying a girl.

“Thank you, my darling,” she purred, “for keeping your promise to give me a daughter.”

Cesare grinned and kissed his wife as she lay on the examining table.

“Happy to oblige. Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

Vannozza dabbed at her eyes, filled with tears of joy.

“A little granddaughter. I’m so happy.”

Lucrezia grasped her hand.

“We’ll name her after you, Mom.”

“Oh, sweetie, no.”

“But we want to honor you.”

“Then name her after my mother. Call her ‘Celestina.’ I’d be thrilled.”

“It’s a great name, Mom,” Cesare smiled. “I don’t remember much about your mother, but I love the stories you told me about her.”

“I wish you had been able to know your grandmother better, Cesare. She adored you.”

“Well, now she will have a namesake to watch over from Heaven. Celestina. Tina.”

 

“Lucrezia called me today to tell me that she’s having another baby.” Laura raised an eyebrow as she sat at the dinner table with Micheletto. “I guess she doesn’t believe in birth control.”

He stiffened and turned his face, a tight-lipped mask, to her.

“Lucrezia is a woman who passionately loves her husband, and that love is fruitful. Surely you can find no fault in that.”

“Um…no, no, of course not. I’m just surprised, that’s all, this pregnancy coming so soon after Chezza.”

“Perhaps it is not our place to say how others should live their lives.”

“You’re right, Michele. I’m sorry.”

“Knowing the joy that Angelina and Natalia bring to me, I am happy for my _Cugino_ that his wife gives him the gift of children.”

Micheletto stood.

“I am going upstairs to my office, _cara mia_. When the _bambine_ get home from having barbeque with their friend Sandra and her family, please send them to me. I will want to hear about their day.”

Left alone, Laura felt tears sting her eyes.

_‘He loves those girls so much,’ she thought. ‘He hasn’t said it in just those words, but I can tell he wants more kids. A son, perhaps. I’m still young enough for that. Why did I ever insist upon this sexless marriage? Because I had no idea I’d fall in love with him, that’s why. I don’t think he loves me back. He calls me **cara mia** , and he is kind and affectionate, but in a very proper, very decorous, very perfunctory way. He’s a ‘professional’ husband, fulfilling all the outward duties and requirements, but feeling little or nothing inside. I did that to him, to us, with my shortsightedness, and I don’t know how to bridge the distance between us.’_

Laura heard her daughters knock on Michele’s office door and his delighted voice telling them to come in. She heard giggles and excited, girlish exclamations as they eagerly chirped about their dinner with their friend.

“We had hamburgers,” Angelina declared, “and Sandra’s dad cooked them really well. Maybe we could have a barbeque here, Papa. You could make us hamburgers.”

Micheletto demurred.

“I can’t cook, _Topolina_. Your mama would have to do that.”

“But, Papa, the daddy is supposed to do the barbeque grilling.”

“Why?”

“That’s just how it’s done.”

“Yes, Papa,” Natalia chimed in. “That’s how it’s done.”

“Well, my little girls, as much as I love you, I just cannot cook for you. But I’ll tell you what. Invite your friend to go with you to the amusement park. We will spend the entire day there. You can ride every ride and you can eat your fill of cotton candy and ice cream and anything else you want. How does that sound?”

“You’re the best daddy!” Natalia cried.

“So that idea pleases my _bambine_? Now come and kiss me and then go get your baths. Mama and I will come and tuck you in after a little while.”

The sound of scampering feet as Angelina and Natalia ran to their rooms to prepare for bathing carried down to Laura as she sat in the family room reading a book. How extravagantly her girls loved their Papa! Listen to them, running to obey him, happy to obey him. Why?   Because they knew he loved them, was strong and in charge. That he would take care of them, keep them safe. His little _principesse_. He left no doubt as to his affection for them.

Laura sighed. Michele’s behavior towards her was unfailingly kind, respectful and mannerly. A true gentleman. So different from Junior. Why had she ever married that pig? Why indeed? Because she was nineteen years old and he was an older man who drove a Corvette and offered her a four karat diamond ring which had dazzled her. She had begged and cajoled her parents to permit her to get married. Junior’s parents approved the match, hoping it would settle the hulking oaf down and provide him with the motivation he had lacked up till then. Junior remained a shiftless, purposeless clod, even after Laura became pregnant. He had begun to slap her around, viewing her as the burden that crushed him, that weighed him down and ruined his life. Now she was saddling him with a baby, yet another unwanted encumbrance. Shocked, furious, Laura had fought back with the only weapon she had: her sharp, sarcastic tongue. Miserable, but too proud to admit to her parents that she had made a terrible mistake, she had remained with Junior, bearing another daughter and periodically throwing him out. His death had come as a relief. Shamefully, self-servingly, hating herself for being so craven, she had wept and wailed at his funeral, solely to curry favor with Junior’s parents, and they had obliged her with the generous financial support she was hoping to win for herself and her children. When Papa suggested that she marry Michele, she was astounded, both at his bold suggestion and at the prospective groom’s willingness to go along. Revolted by Junior’s swinish behavior towards her, and expecting nothing better from Michele, she had demanded of him his promise of a “mariage blanc.”

“I don’t care what you do on the side, so long as you’re discreet about it,” she had said to him. “We both know that this marriage is simply to get me off of Papa’s hands. I’ll be a good wife to you, put on a good show for him. Who knows? Maybe you and I may even be happy together.”

She had not expected Michele’s graceful, gallant tenderness to both her and the children. He handled her gently, opening doors for her, escorting her with his hand lightly touching the small of her back. He listened to her, asked her questions, took an interest in her wants and needs. He never belittled her, never shouted at her, never grew impatient with her. He delighted in the girls, calling them by endearments, hearing their bedtime prayers, coaxing them to eat their vegetables, reading to them, meeting with their teachers.

Her affection for Michele had crept up on her. But how could she not have come to care for him, in light of how he treated her and her girls? What surprised her was her desire for him. Repulsed by Junior’s sweaty, snuffling pawing at her, she had learned to despise sexual relations. She had known no other man, and assumed that all men were alike. That’s what her mother and grandmother had told her.

_“Be prepared to do your marital duty, Laura. It’ll be over quickly and at least you’ll get babies from it.”_

Nowhere was it ever even hinted that she might find pleasure in sex.

_“Take that dirty thing in your mouth? Ewww! Even the thought makes me sick. No decent woman would ever do that.”_

But Michele…he was different. He was genteel and graceful in an old-world fashion, soft spoken and kind, yet with a core of steel. Laura had been deeply moved by his open and extravagant love for Angelina and Natalia. A real man, strong enough to be gentle to his little girls, displaying his pleasure at their hugs and kisses, their hanging on to him when out in public. His anxiety at their bumps and bruises, his hands-on interest in their education and extra-curricular activities.

Shortly into their marriage, Laura had gone upstairs to tuck the girls into bed and had come upon the charming scene of Michele sitting on Angelina’s bed, reading a book to the girls while holding Natalia on his lap as the older child snuggled into the crook of his arm. He had looked up at her and smiled gently as she entered the room.

“Ah, _cara mia_. Come join us. We’re just getting to the good part.”

“Papa reads stories as good as you do, Mommy,” Angelina piped.

The first thought that ran through her astonished brain was that Junior would never have done such a thing. The second thought was that Junior was lying in his grave, unmourned by anyone but his long-suffering mother. And she had murmured a silent prayer of thanksgiving, for the children and for herself.

“Mommy,” Angelina had declared, amazement shimmering in her sweet, childish voice. “Papa _loves_ us. He told us so.”

“And we love him back,” Natalia affirmed. “I’m glad we married him.”

“I am too, honey,” Laura had said. “I am too.”

Later, after the girls had gone to sleep, Laura brought warm drinks to Tony and her husband, seated together in the intimate darkness of the family room.

“You were so sweet to the kids, Michele,” she said. “Is that what you remember growing up?”

“No, _cara mia_. Not at all. But that is what I would have liked.”

 

Micheletto was tired.

Today had been one more bad day in a series of bad days.

Seated in his office at home, he rubbed his aching forehead. What was that old Shakespeare line? _‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.’_ Right now, he’d like to take that crown and fling it into the sea.

A thousand different notions whirled around in his head, like confetti, like mayflies swarming, each demanding his attention, competing for priority.

A bookie discovered to be skimming off profits. A newly-elected politician who must be brought on board. Another market to be developed. Territories. And always the strategies, the struggle to stay two steps ahead, to anticipate the moves of rivals and to have preemptive strikes planned. Appropriate responses devised. Listening attentively to his soldiers as they voiced their concerns, issuing orders and directives, gifts to this family, bribes to that entity…

How long had he been doing this now? How many years? Had he not justified Don Antonio’s trust in him? Had he not expanded the organization’s reach, boosted profits by many percentage points? Had he not conducted himself as to command respect and obedience and confidence in his leadership? He had been discreet and circumspect in his dealings, personal and professional. He had obeyed the Don’s code and stayed out of the papers, but he had supported the involvement in civic and charitable organizations of his increasingly-visible wife, a wife to whom he had been scrupulously faithful.

Wife. Micheletto snorted at the term. She was no wife any more than he was a husband. Yet it wasn’t her fault. She had been absolutely up front with him when she consented to marry him. It was, she said, strictly to please Don Antonio, who had been anxious to secure for Laura and her children a respectable, protected future with a trusted subordinate. Separate bedrooms, she had insisted, and he, being not overly inclined to lustful behavior, had agreed. Fulfilling the Don’s wishes, being entrusted with the running of his organization—these were the things that had given him purpose and gratification.

For how many years now?

How many years had he held the course? Dutiful, hyper-responsible, a rock of dependability.

“Don Antonio,” he had said, just the night before, as they sat together over a chess board. “Tell me. Did it ever get to you, the endless sense of being pulled in a thousand different directions? The weight of the organization, the thought of all the people who depend upon you. The need to be all-knowing, ever in control.”

The Don had laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Did it get to me? Hah! Why do you think I was so glad to turn it all over to you? Why I now want nothing more than to sit with other old men in the park and tend my garden and indulge my grandchildren?”

“It wears on me, Don. I am tired. I need your help.”

“You don’t need my help, _ragazzo mio_. You are strong.”

“I don’t feel strong right now.”

“What is hardest for you?’’

“Having no one in whom I can confide.”

“You don’t feel you can confide in me?”

“No, Don Antonio. I fear disappointing you, of appearing weak.”

“Are you not now confiding in me?”

Micheletto huffed a breath.

“Yes. I suppose I am. Do you think I am being weak?”

“No. I think that, for too long, you have been Michele, the Don. Not Micheletto, the man. You have done nothing for yourself, taken no pleasure for yourself.”

“I have my pleasures.”

“What pleasures? You work and work and work, endlessly. You do not smoke, do not drink, do not gamble. You have no room in your life for women.”

“I have a wife, Don Antonio.”

“Laura is a good woman, but she is not a wife. She is yet another obligation which you must meet. I know the kind of life you lead and I regret insisting that you marry her. I am sorry for both of you.”

“It’s not her fault. When we first talked about marriage, she made her expectations clear to me and I agreed to them. She is indeed a good woman. She has her charitable works which bring credit to the family name. She is a loving mother. What complaint can I make against such a woman?”

“Do you not feel deprived, Micheletto? Deprived of joy?”

“I have my _bambine_. They are the joy of my life. Angelina is now seventeen and Natalia is fifteen. They are beautiful.”

“So they are. They are wonderful little girls. And I know well how a man can come to love a child who is not his own blood.”

Tony laid his gnarled hand on Micheletto’s arm, causing him to smile.

“You are and ever will be my son. But consider your _cugino_. Cesare’s wife still looks at him as if he is God above. Recall that they now have four children.”

“My cousin is a most fortunate man. But that kind of love is rare. I have never expected to find it in my life.”

“I had it once, but I destroyed it. My Angela had that kind of love for me, but I took her lightly.”

“Don Antonio…” Micheletto rose from his chair. Tony waved his hands.

“No, no. Sit, _ragazzo mio_. Allow an old man to weep for his mistakes. But learn from me. Do not end up like me. You are still young.”

“Hardly, Don Antonio. Can you not see my grey hairs?”

“You are still alive. Still a man. Don’t waste that gift. Admit that you need a woman’s love. Seek it. Glory in it.”

“You’ve given me much to ponder.”

“Think on it, Micheletto. Look to your happiness.”

 

 Micheletto sighed and wrapped his arm around the woman lying beside him in bed, her back against his bare chest.

When had she become a part of him? His soul, his heart, his other self? He simply could not live without her.

It had all started out so civilly. Their days together passed so politely, so pleasantly, so decorously. Living together had made them grow close. Living together, facing the ups and downs which come to all families. The crises and the triumphs, the illnesses, the laughter. And the quiet moments, sitting together in the family room as it grew dark, relaxing before the fireplace, sipping hot cider and chatting in low, intimate voices.

Then came the day when, alone with him in the house, she had rushed to him, excited over something, some trivial little thing, and had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. A sweet, unexpected gesture that had taken him completely by surprise until he drew his head back and gazed down at her, into her upturned face and shining eyes, and then he had pulled her hard against his chest and kissed her red mouth, intensely, passionately, as lovers kiss. He was thunderstruck, dumbfounded at himself, and he released her, apologizing for his audacity.

She smiled then, her lips curving into a provocative pout.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long. I know you have too.”

He had tried to speak, tried to say that she was mistaken, that he had simply been overwhelmed by the moment. But he could not lie. Not to her. Not anymore.

He had taken her to bed then, nervous but driven by a need that thundered in his ears, that roared in his blood. He loved her. He wanted her. She made him feel virile, alive. Up until now, his entire life had been one of duty, of suppression of his own wants and needs and desires. Now he had been awakened, freed from the onus that had suffocated him like a shroud for decades. Because of this woman who wanted him.

She sighed and snuggled closer to him, lending him the warmth of her body, the warm scent of her flesh. He kissed her throat, his hand searching for her pointed breast to squeeze.

She turned over to face him and pressed her hand against his heart.

“I love you, Micheletto,” she whispered.

“You make me feel so good, my angel.”

His angel.  His Angelina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bambine -- little girls  
> Topolina -- Little Mouse


	26. The Eight Of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein are made major changes

The sand on the beach was hot and glaring as it reflected the late afternoon sun. Micheletto reclined on a large blanket, grateful for the enormous umbrella which shaded him. Leaning back on his elbows, he watched, fondly diverted, as Angelina scampered through the surf, laughing. Wearing only a tiny swatch of a bikini bottom which shamelessly but innocently displayed her tanned body, slender as a column, with small, firm breasts that bounced delectably as she ran along the shore, she seemed to him a colt, a fawn. She glanced over at him and waved, then nodded as he beckoned her. She flung herself down on the blanket and kissed him, open-mouthed, eager, unabashed.

“You’ve been in the sun too long, _Bambina_ ,” he murmured, gently brushing her long hair, now dyed midnight black, away from her face. “I was afraid you would get burned. Thank you for being obedient and coming to me when I called you.”

Her guileless, light brown eyes twinkled. “Don’t I always obey you, my love?”

He chuckled then, immensely flattered and pleased.

“You do. And I am grateful to you for it. You make an old man feel like a king.”

She frowned and moved closer to him, sliding her hand over his chest and belly.

“You’re not old. Stop saying that.”

He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

"Keep believing that, my angel. Ignore my grey hair and my wrinkles.”

Angelina sat up and gazed earnestly into Micheletto’s eyes.

“Look at you, my darling. You’re still as powerful and strong and manly as ever. And at night…well, you know how happy you keep me. I love you.”

He reached for her, pulling her down onto him, devouring her mouth with his.

 

It had not been an easy decision to make, to disappear, to leave behind his entire life. Don Antonio, Laura and Natalia. Cesare and Lucrezia and their children. The Organization, the soldiers who looked to him to lead them.

But Angelina…his need for her had trumped everything, including his own common sense. He began siphoning money into a spider web of shell corporations and entities, very quietly and discreetly laying the groundwork for him to vanish with her. Because now, she was his life.

They left behind nearly everything, clothes, personal possessions, mementos. They left no notes, no messages, no explanations. Except for one.

Tony found, on his pillow, a Tarot card: the Eight of Cups.

 

Leaving the country required tricky logistics. They had taken a series of flights, criss crossing the globe, changing their appearances, purchasing new wardrobes, before they met up with a contact who provided them with fake passports and other documents which identified them as Monsieur and Madame Enzo Proulx of France.

“Madame Proulx,” Micheletto teased. “Sabine. Does your new name please you?”

“I will love being Madame to your Monsieur. But you speak Italian, not French. And my high school French is terrible.”

“It doesn’t matter, _Bambina_. Our destination is cosmopolitan enough that we will encounter many languages and accents. No one will give a second thought except to wonder at the lucky old man with the beautiful young wife.”

“My darling. Enzo. Don’t say such things. You are not old.”

“Oh, I am, my Sabine. I am old. But you make me feel young again.”

 

Angelina wanted to live near the seashore, so Micheletto had his agent, a wily and unapologetically corrupt attorney whose welfare depended entirely upon keeping his employer happy, find them a Caribbean villa with a private beach and a discreet household staff who were well paid and notably closed-mouthed. When he first brought her to the house, she had run from room to room, shrieking with delight as she made her way, discovering her new home. The beachfront, the view of the sea, the elegantly tiled bathroom and sauna. The huge kitchen, the sunny, airy overall ambiance of the villa. She had rushed to Micheletto’s arms, laughing and crying. “Is it really mine? My house? Our house?”

“Yours, _Topolina_. Does it please you?”

“Oh, _Carissimo,_ it’s more than I ever dreamed of. We’ll be so happy here. I just know it.”

“You may want to change some things. Redecorate. New furnishings. Look around and see what would please you.”

“Are you sure, my love? Can we afford it?”

He stroked his hand down the smooth silk of her hair, flowing over her rounded shoulders and exquisite breasts.

“You will have whatever you desire, my pretty one. Give no thought to anything except what makes you happy.”

She flung her slim arms around his neck.

“You!” she exclaimed. “You make me happy.”

 

As a feral animal, newly released into the wild, runs mad with freedom, so did Angelina. Discarding Catholic school uniforms, curfews, discipline, expectations, she threw herself with complete abandon into the pursuit of pleasure, under the indulgent gaze of her much-older lover, who himself was bedazzled that this glorious, ravishing, untamed creature did indeed belong to him.  

 

In the days that followed, Micheletto felt as if he was walking in a dream. Angelina overflowed with joy, lavishing him with attention, with kisses, with sex.

“ _Carissimo_ ,” she had purred, snuggling up to him in bed. “Mama wants me to go to college, but I don’t want to. Do I have to?”

“Of course not, _Topolina_. Why do that which gives you no pleasure? What do you want to do?”

“Play on the beach. Isn’t that why we live here? I want to have fun and go dancing in clubs. Every night.”

“ _Bambina_ , I cannot dance.”

“But I want to go dancing. I’ll teach you.” Her red lips curved into an irresistible pout.

“Then I will take you. You may dance with as many partners as you wish. But remember that you go home only with me.”

 

The household staff were scrupulously dutiful and impassive in their facial expressions and kept their opinions strictly to themselves. But if they had been foolish enough to jeopardize well-paying jobs with a generous employer by speaking out and talking amongst themselves, they might have said:

“Madame has Monsieur by the short hairs, doesn’t she? He’s so enamoured of her that she could easily make a right fool of him. But she seems to genuinely love the lucky old bastard.”

“Maybe so, but would she find him so lovable if he were a poor man? I doubt it.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. She is a splendid creature, a tiger’s cub. She exudes sex like a perfume but is completely unaware of her power over men. He is certainly aware of it. It drives him insane for her. He watches her constantly, can’t take his eyes from her. And she has eyes for none but him.”

“Her habit of sleeping late is annoying, but there’s nothing for it. Monsieur would fire us on the spot if we disturbed his little _bambina_. Other than that, though, she’s easy to work for, easy to please. She eats lightly and wears little clothing other than swimsuit bottoms and sundresses. Her only jewelry is simple hoop earrings and her plain wedding ring. So long as her bathroom is clean and her bed has clean sheets, she doesn’t much care about housekeeping. And she took the trouble to learn the birthdays of each of the staff and gifts them with a cake and a nice bonus. All Monsieur and Madame really are strict with us about is our keeping mum, and that’s not hard to do. We’ve got it good compared to many other domestic servants I know.”

 

Having been out dancing at her favorite club the night before, Angelina awoke late, alone in bed. She slipped on a light robe and made her way to the kitchen, asking Marinette, her maid, for a cup of tea to be brought to her on the back deck.

“ _Carissimo_ ,” she purred, lowering herself down on a cushioned chaise next to Micheletto’s. “You’re up early. I had hoped you’d sleep in this morning, since you so gallantly took me dancing last night.”

“You were the one who wore yourself out, _Bambina_. All I did was sit and watch you.”

She reached for his hand.

“I wish you would dance with me.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself well enough with all the young men who clustered around to dance with you.”

She pouted her soft red lips.

“I’d rather dance with you. I don’t like those young men.”

“Why?”

“They have no manners. They make disgusting suggestions.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Do they say you should abandon your father and go with them?”

Angelina bit her lip and looked away. Micheletto shrugged.

“Why does that surprise you, _Bambina_? You are young and beautiful. I am old.”

Tears filled her big, clear eyes, the color of acorns, the color of her mother’s.

“Don’t say that. It hurts me when you say that.”

She moved to lie down beside him on his recliner and snuggled herself into his arms. She raised her face and kissed his lips, gently at first and then with increasing intensity as their passion grew.

Without a word, Marinette set a cup of tea down on a round side table and departed.

Micheletto sighed, pressing his cheek to Angelina’s silky hair.

“You will grow tired of me, my _Topolina_. You will want a man your own age. I should have never taken you away from your home. I was foolish.”

“Nearly all my life, you were there for me, protecting me, loving me. It scared me when I realized that my feelings for you were changing to feelings I shouldn’t be having. But I couldn’t help myself. You were the strongest, most exciting man I had ever known. Oh, my darling, how I wanted you! I still do. I will never want anyone but you. Why can’t you believe that?”

“I am not made of the stuff women dream of. Not handsome, not young. All I ever knew was work. I am dull. Boring.”

“You are the stuff of _my_ dreams. I love the way you look at me, the way you touch me. You are so strong, yet so gentle. You treat me like I am a fragile treasure.”

“You are a treasure. My _Tesoro_. I love you.”

“I know that. It means everything to me, the way you love me. The way you show it. Please believe that I love you the same.”

“I am afraid of losing you.”

“You won’t. Who is to say that you won’t become bored with me? I’m immature. Uneducated. I know nothing.”

“You are endlessly fascinating.”

“My love, do you ever…feel guilty? About leaving Mama? Leaving _Nonno_?”

“Of course. Your mother is a good woman. Your _nonno_ is a father to me. Yes, I feel guilty for abandoning them. But what could I do? I am so in love with you.”

She flung her arms around his neck, pressing her lithe body to his.

“I love you too, _Carissimo._ I could not live unless it’s as your lover.”

They remained silent for a moment, savoring their intimate closeness. Then Angelina spoke softly.

“I don’t want to go dancing ever again. I’d rather stay home with you.”

“No, _Bambina_. You love to dance.”

“I love you more. Besides, I’m tired of those rude young men with their impertinent suggestions. You are such a gentleman. You have me spoiled.”

“I cannot do enough for you. If you really don’t mind giving up going to dance clubs, I promise you will not be bored. We’ll find other things to entertain you.”

“We’ll spend more time at the beach. Go to bed earlier. Extra sleep will be good for us. And cut out alcohol.”

“You don’t drink to begin with.”

“True, but now I won’t even be tempted. My only vice will be my excessive desire for you.”

“Sweet child, how you flatter me! Now, come and drink your tea. We can breakfast together out here, if you like. I’ll go and tell the cook.”

“I’d like that. Then perhaps a swim.”

“Of course. Later this afternoon, I want to take you to visit the shops in town. There are some lovely hand-made crafts that you might like.”

“Are you sure you want to go there? So many tourists. Photographers. Shouldn’t we avoid such places?”

“Just this once, _Topolina_. You make me so happy. I want to give you a gift.”

“Be it as you say.”

 

Natalia was online at a gossipy web site, absently scrolling through a photo montage entitled “Odd Couples In The Tropics: Photos Of Women Who Are Way Hotter Than Their Men.”

Suddenly she sat bolt upright.

“Mom! Mommy! Come look at this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Eight of Cups
> 
> “This indicates changes in affections and the breaking of irrelevant links with the past - a turning away from existing relationships and objects of affection with the intent of progressing to that which is new and deeper in meaning. A change or gaining of perspective, this can indicate disillusion with the present, inaugurating the growth of greater future contentment and depth.  
> This card usually carries the meaning of disillusionment and abandonment of things which have not been emotionally fulfilling.”
> 
> Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia  
> Text is available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License


	27. Monsieur Colbert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein danger comes closer

Laura stared past Natalia’s head to the screen in front of her, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Oh my God, it can’t be! It just can’t be.”

But it was. Undeniably. Michele in Bermuda shorts and an island shirt, smiling broadly, walking past a line of small, quaint shops, arm in arm with Angelina, who was dressed in a loose, short Lilly Pulitzer print dress and sandals. Her hair was dyed black, but there was no mistaking her delicate features and slim figure.

“Go and get your _nonno_ ,” she said to Natalia, and then sat down in the chair the girl vacated.

“I won’t cry,” she muttered. “I will not cry.”

“Laura,” Tony barked, entering Natalia’s bedroom. “What is it? My _Gattina_ looks like she has seen a ghost.”

“In a manner of speaking, _nonno_ , I have,” his granddaughter replied grimly. “Just look.”

Tony’s jaw dropped.

“No!” he shouted. “It cannot be.”

“It is, Papa,” Laura said, her voice tight with choked-back tears. “It’s them.”

“Where? Where was this photo taken?”

“I don’t know, Papa. The title just says ‘the tropics.’”

“Is there a photo credit? We must locate the photographer.”

“Do you think you can find them? “

“Of course we will find them. We will bring the little girl home safe and sound.”

“And Michele? My husband?”

“What about him, Laura?”

“Will you bring him home too, safe and sound?”

“ _Cara mia_ , I don’t want to upset you. Angelina is an innocent child who has been led astray. She can be forgiven. But Micheletto? No. He must be made to pay for his misdeeds.”

“Papa, please. For me…”

“Not even for you can I overlook his transgressions.”

“But it was my fault that he ran away. I…um…was not a good wife to him. I pushed him away with my coldness. My fault, Papa.”

“You did not push him into the arms of your daughter, _cara mia_. He could have found other…satisfaction than seducing an innocent child who trusted him as a father. May God have mercy on him, because I cannot.”

“Blame **her** , _nonno_!” Natalia spat. “Kill Angelina.”

“Natalia,” Laura shrieked, horrified. “Angelina is your sister!”

“She stole my papa. She took him from us. I hate her.” She began to sob. “I want my papa!”

“ _Gattina_ ,” Tony embraced his granddaughter. “Don’t cry. You still have your _nonno_. Your mama. You are loved.”

“My papa loves me too. _Nonno_ , don’t hurt my papa. Please. Bring him back home.”

Tony’s stricken face betrayed his inner struggle as he rocked Natalia comfortingly.

“ _Piccola_ , there are things which you don’t understand. I am not heartless. You must trust me that I am doing the right thing.”

Natalia erupted with a fresh storm of tears.

“My daddy. I want my daddy. He ran away because we didn’t love him enough. Bring him home, _nonno_. We’ll love him better this time and he will want to stay. You’ll see.” Her voice rose to a desperate wail. “Please, _nonno._ _Please_.”

“Natalia…” Laura began, but Tony waved her away.

“Very well, Natalia. I can’t bear to see you so unhappy. _Bene_! We will bring him home. You know he has done very bad things and must answer for them. You understand that, don’t you?”

“What will you do to him, _nonno_? Don’t hurt him. I beg you.”

“I promise you, I will not shed the blood of your papa.”

“You promise?”

“I swear. I give you my word. Now, don’t cry anymore. Be comforted.”

Natalia threw her arms around Tony and showered him with thanks and kisses.

 

Alone in his office, Tony picked up his phone.

“Ah, good, you’re there.  I need you to come see me now. I want you to track someone down for me and deal with him. There is only one condition. Do not shed his blood. That’s right. However you want to deal with him, so long as you don’t shed his blood. Why? Because I have given my word.”

 

“Lucrezia!” Laura’s voice was panicked.

“Laura. What’s wrong? You sound terrified.”

“Oh, honey, I am. Natalia was fooling around, surfing the net, and came upon a candid photo of Michele and Angelina that was obviously taken without their knowledge. I showed it to Papa and now he is determined to find them.”

“Oh, my God, Laura!”

“He intends to bring Angelina home safely, but I’m scared of what he will do to Michele. Natalia and I cried and begged him to show mercy, and he promised he would not shed Michele’s blood, but…”

“But, indeed! There’s drowning, poisoning, suffocating. All sorts of creative ways to do him in.”

“Lucrezia, am I stupid? He hurt me terribly, but I still love him. I don’t want him to be hurt. I should never have shown that photo to Papa, but it took me so much by surprise that I just didn’t think it through. It didn’t occur to me that he’d want Michele dead.”

“Of course he would, Laura. Not only did he make off with Tony’s granddaughter, but even worse, with a whole lot of his money. He can’t excuse that.”

“We have to warn them, but how? The photo caption only said that it was taken ‘in the tropics.’”

“Tell me the address of the web site. Maybe Cesare can think of something. Honey, don’t worry. I’ll call you back in a little bit.”

“Thanks, Lucrezia. You’re a love.”

“Family, Laura. We’re all in this together.”

 

Before Micheletto had absconded with Tony’s money and granddaughter, he met in secret with Cesare and informed him of his plan.

“Please do not judge me, _Cugino_. I am an imperfect man, but a man in love.”

“Jesus, Micheletto! Angelina, of all people! She’s only…”

“Eighteen, Cesare. She just turned eighteen. I know I look like an old fool, but I must do this.”

“But Laura…Natalia…”

“You think I don’t care about them, _Cugino_?   Laura and I had a seemly, courteous marriage. We did our best to make a workable partnership. You yourself tried to warn me that it would not be enough, and you were right. I regret that Laura may be hurt and embarrassed. I know she and Natalia will be well provided for. However, just as Lucrezia is to you, so Angelina is to me. Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh. She wants me as a lover, as a man. I need that, Cesare. Can you understand?”

“I can, Micheletto, but this whole thing is surreal. Do you really think you can just vanish with her? Drop off the face of the earth? Uncle Tony has a pretty far reach, you know.”

“I know. I have learned a few things myself, though. I have to try, _Cugino_. I cannot live without her.”

“Well, be assured that I would never betray you.”

“I know that, Cesare. That is why I am confiding in you. Should a situation ever arise serious enough that you need to reach me, call the telephone number on this slip of paper and tell the person who answers that you are ‘Monsieur Colbert.’ He will understand and contact me.”

“When will you depart?”

“Soon. I am sorry to leave you, _Cugino_ , but this is the only way I can think of to be with Angelina.”

“What if Tony finds you? What do you think he’ll do?”

“Without a doubt, he will try to kill me. Not only will I have stolen his granddaughter, but also an enormous amount of his money. Honor will require him to seek revenge.”

“My God, Micheletto! Can you really live with that hanging over your head?”

“We will be careful, live quietly, attract no attention.”

Cesare, choked with emotion, embraced Micheletto.

“I wish you nothing but good, _Cugino_ , you and Angelina. If there is ever anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open, Cesare. If you should learn of anything…”

“Monsieur Colbert will be calling.”

 

“Monsieur Proulx. It’s I, Donati, calling to tell you that ‘Monsieur Colbert’ has telephoned. He left the number of a certain mobile phone where he may be reached.”

Micheletto tensed. Cesare would not have contacted the lawyer unless for the gravest reasons.

“I see, Monsieur Donati. May I have that number, please?”

 

Cesare’s voice on the other end of the telephone sounded strained.

“Monsieur Proulx. How good of you to call.”

“I am pleased to hear your voice, Monsieur Colbert. Be assured that you may speak freely. I am calling you from a prepaid telephone.”

“We think alike, Monsieur Proulx, because my phone is also one of those.”

“Cesare! _Cugino_! I know you would not be calling me unless circumstances were dire.”

“I have to tell you that Natalia saw a photo of you and Angelina on an internet site. You appeared to be walking past a line of small shops. I doubt you were aware of being photographed.”

“ _Cazzo!_ Angelina warned me against us going into town among the tourists and photographers who throng there, but I wouldn’t listen to her. Might you know for how long this picture has been posted?”

“Natalia saw it yesterday on this cheesy gossip site. She views it daily and had not seen it previously. She was so startled that she showed it to her mother and grandfather. Laura phoned Lucrezia crying because Tony indicated that he intends to go after you. Natalia cried and pleaded with him to spare you, so he told her he wouldn’t shed your blood. That placated Natalia, but it didn’t fool Laura.”

“Indeed. It just means that the assassin he sends will have to be more creative.”

“I’m scared for you, Cousin. And for Angelina.”

“Have no fears for her, Cesare. I will ensure that she is safe.”

“But you. What about you?”

“I will be fine.”

“Can I do anything?”

“You have done more than you can know.”

“Micheletto, do you know whom Tony will send?”

“There can be only one man. Rufio.”


	28. Gatto E Topo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein occurs a game of cat and mouse

Micheletto took Angelina by both of her hands and riveted her with his eyes.

“When I asked you to obey me without question, _Topolina_ , it was not to rule over you, but to guarantee your safety. That is why I am telling you now that you must leave here at once.”

“Not until you tell me why, Micheletto.”

“ _Dolcezza_ , please trust me. I would not ask this of you without good reason.”

“And I will not go away from you without good reason. Tell me.”

Micheletto sighed.

“I would spare you worry, but I see I have no choice but to disclose all. When we went into town the other day, a freelance photographer took our picture and posted it in a photo display on the internet. Your grandfather saw it and is now actively looking for us. Cesare called to warn me of it.”

“Our photo on the internet? Why? Why us?”

“I don’t know, Angelina.”

“Why at that moment? Oh, my God, Micheletto! We could have just as easily been photographed in the dance clubs, couldn’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then why did you let me drag you to them? Why didn’t you warn me? Talk sense into me?”

“Because dancing gave you such pleasure. Because I love you and would have you be happy. I failed to anticipate the reach of the internet. Now it has caught up to us.”

“What do you mean?”

“My angel, an assassin is coming. He means to kill me and lay hands on you, to take you back to your family.”

“No!”

“The assassin who is coming is the one man over whom I am not sure I can prevail. That is why you must leave. I will dismiss the staff temporarily for their safety as well.”

“You think he might actually be able to kill you?”

“Yes.”

Angelina grasped Micheletto’s shoulders and locked eyes with him.

“Then let’s go away together. Now. We’ll find a new home, be more careful.”

“No, Angelina. I must face him. Otherwise he will just hound us from one end of the earth to the other. We would never have peace.”

“But, Micheletto…”

“You must go. If you are here, I will be distracted by the need to protect you. Can you understand that?”

“I do, but consider this: the hit man doesn’t know you’re aware that he’s coming, does he? He thinks he will have the element of surprise. It may make him a little careless. Should he arrive here and discover the house deserted, he’ll know you’re expecting him.”

Micheletto furrowed his brow.

“You’re right. But even so…”

“So let him think that he still has the upper hand. But confront him on your terms.”

He cupped her raised face in his hands and kissed her lips.

“What have I done to you, my angel? I have stolen your innocence. Not just of your body, but of your soul.”

“I _gave_ my body to you. You didn’t steal it. And I am not your creature, your brainless pet that you pamper and indulge. I love you, Micheletto. I want to stand beside you in everything. Even this. Especially this.”

“I cannot believe that you are able to love…”

Angelina cut him off.

“Believe it. Just believe that I do. Now let’s talk about what we must do to face this. Together.”

 

“ _Cugino.”_

“Cousin! I’m so glad to hear your voice. Is there something you need?”

“There is, Cesare. I would ask a favor of you.”

“Anything.”

“There is a certain law enforcement official who has always been a friend to me. Would you be able to contact her and ask for her help?”

“Sure, but what kind of help?”

“Tracking Rufio’s movements. Surveillance of airports, for instance. Credit card transactions.”

“Could she do these things?”

“I think so.”

“Who is she? What’s her name?”

When Micheletto disclosed the identity of his friend, Cesare whistled.

“Talk about friends in high places, Cousin! Interpol? Will I even be able to get through to her?”

“Tell the person who answers the telephone that you are calling on behalf of Madame’s _‘compagnon d’armes.’_ There will be standing orders to put anyone through to her who uses that name. In the past, I have assisted her in advancing her career by providing her with certain helpful information when it suited my purpose. She was able to make important raids and arrests, and that helped me to eliminate rivals. A mutually beneficial friendship.”

“What should I say to her? It may be better for her to call you directly.”

“Yes. Give her the number of my burner phone. I will discard it after I speak to her and will call you with a new number. Thank you, _Cugino._ I am so grateful to you.”

“I’m here, Cousin. Whatever you need.”

 

Rufio pulled the eyeshades down over his face and crossed his arms, snuggling into the narrow airplane seat. It would be a long flight, so he intended to get as comfortable as possible and sleep as much as he could. He felt a fleeting regret that he had chosen not to travel First-class, but he acknowledged to himself that it was far better to go Economy. Much less conspicuous.

His ability to blend in with any surrounding, he knew, was one of the factors that had made him such an accomplished artisan in his field. Airline ticket clerks, parking lot attendants, bank tellers simply couldn’t recall him, let alone describe him.

What was he wearing?

_Um…clothes. Just ordinary clothes._

What color was his hair?

_Um…I don’t remember. It was just ordinary._

How tall?

_Medium height. I think._

Eye color?

_Um…I don’t remember._

Anything unusual about his voice? Did he have an accent?

_No. Just ordinary._

Glasses? Scars? Tattoos?

_I don’t remember. He was just…ordinary._

Rufio smiled grimly. He had always known it would come to this: a confrontation with the great Micheletto. _Micheletto._ The only really worthy opponent. But would it be a fair fight? Had he not been out of the game, losing his edge, growing soft, lying on the beach in the sun and in the bed of his child mistress? Rufio snorted. So even the incorruptible Micheletto was human, subject to the same needs and temptations as mortal men. How tragic that this titan, whose name Rufio had ever spoken in awed whispers, might be undone by base concupiscence.

_May I never be caught in such a trap._

_“Monsieur.”_

“Madame Compagnon.”

_“I have some news for you. Your visitor left his home base yesterday evening and just landed at your local airport a quarter of an hour ago. He has a reservation at the La Playa Hotel. Do you know of it?”_

“Yes. Small. Undistinguished. A good place in which to lie low.”

_“His reservation is for a week.”_

“Apparently he intends to reconnoiter before coming to see me. A prudent move on his part.”

_“I will call again as more information becomes available.”_

“Many thanks, my friend.”

 

_“Don Rufio.”_

“Hello, Arturo. How are things at home?”

_“Fine, Don Rufio. I just need to fill you in on a little something. May we speak freely?”_

“Yes, of course.”

_“I want to make you aware that someone has been scanning online through your credit card transactions. They have seen your plane ticket purchase and your hotel reservation.”_

“Ah! Clever fellow! I have underestimated his resourcefulness. Thank you for letting me know this. I will have to change my plans.”

 

Angelina sat in her kitchen, sipping tea with her maid.

“I hope you are content here, Marinette.”

“La, Madame Proulx. I am well content.”

“Perhaps you won’t mind if I ask you a question. You have told me that your husband Jacques is a bit of a wild one. Gets into scrapes now and then.”

Marinette laughed, and her mirth lit up her beautiful face, strong-boned and sculpted, with large hazel eyes and café au lait skin.

“ _Oui_ , Madame. He is a devil sometimes, but what can I do? I love him.”

Angelina smiled. “Perhaps you love him a little more because he’s naughty.”

“He is exciting, Madame. Keeps me off balance.   I never know what to expect from him.”

“Marinette, I will be honest with you. A man has come to the island, a man who means my husband no good. He is here to scout around and learn things about Monsieur Proulx, his habits, his actions, the layout of his house.”

“But why, Madame?”

“Let’s just say that Monsieur has been a bit of a wild one, like your Jacques.”

“Ah! And maybe that makes you love him a little more too.”

The two women giggled over their teacups.

“I confess, Marinette, that it put a twinkle in my eye.”

“So is this visitor looking for revenge?”

“Yes. Not for himself, but for another.”

“And perhaps you think my Jacques may be of help to Monsieur?”

“You are astute, Marinette. I would like to ask Jacques’ help with this unwelcome visitor.”

“How, Madame? What kind of help?”

“Playing tricks, if you will. Doing things to hamper him. Flattening a tire on his car. Stealing his binoculars, if he has them. Things which are minor inconveniences, not likely to make him think he is being made a target, but which will definitely impede him. Sly things which would not require Jacques to put himself in harm’s way. We would, of course, compensate Jacques well for his efforts.”

 

Rufio entered the door of a very posh, very busy beauty salon and asked the receptionist, a pretty young girl with melting dark eyes, if he could talk to the manager. A voice behind him spoke.

“I am the manager, Monsieur.”

He turned to the speaker, a tall, stunning woman of mature years with her hair wrapped in a batik headscarf. Her full lips were painted a deep cranberry which set off her ebony skin.

“My name is Loula. How may I help you, Monsieur?”

“Bon jour, Madame Loula. I am looking for a certain couple shown in this photograph. Would you be kind enough to tell me if you recognize them?”

He held out his cell phone which displayed the internet photo of Micheletto and Angelina. Loula shook her head.

“ _Non_ , Monsieur. I don’t know them.”

“Are you sure? I am almost certain they are here on the island. Please look again.”

“I have never seen them.”

The young receptionist glanced in surprise at the manager.

“But, Madame, surely you recognize them? The lady is Madame…”

“ _Non_ , Veronique,” Loula cut her off abruptly. “The people in the photograph are unknown to us. I am sorry, Monsieur. I cannot help you.”

Rufio laid his calling card on the counter of the receptionist’s station.

“Should you happen to see them, Madame, please call me at this number. It’s very important that I find them. I offer a substantial reward for information that helps me to locate them.”

After Rufio left the shop, Loula turned to Veronique and frowned.

“You must remember to think before you speak, _ma petite_. You know that Monsieur Proulx guards his privacy and that of his wife and rewards us generously for our discretion.”

“ _Oui_ , Madame. I am sorry.”

“No more talk of them, then.”

“ _Oui_ , Madame.”

 

Loula pressed the speed dial number on her mobile phone.

“Marinette, _ma chérie_ , a man came to the salon today and asked about Monsieur and Madame Proulx. Showed me a photo. _Oui_ , just as you said might happen. I told him I did not recognize them, but that little idiot, Veronique, started to say that she knew them. I quickly shut her up, but not before the man heard her. His name? Well, his calling card says his name is Robert Dudley, but I doubt that’s his real identity. Yes, I have the card. I will give it to you when next you come by. And, _chérie,_ perhaps it would be a good idea for your Jacques to have a little talk with Veronique about keeping her pretty mouth shut. _Non, non, non_. Only talk to her. No need for anything rough. She’s just young and thoughtless. _Bien.”_

 

Veronique stepped outside of the salon for a cigarette break and took her cell phone from her pocket.

“Monsieur Dudley? This is Veronique from the salon. I memorized your phone number from your card before Madame Loula took it away. I know the couple from the photograph. They are Monsieur and Madame Proulx. Madame comes in all the time. To have her hair done, facials, Brazilian waxes. _Oui_ , all the time. I can give you her address. Monsieur, you mentioned a reward?”

 

On her way to work the next morning, Veronique’s voice trembled as she spoke into her phone.

“I am very sorry, Monsieur Dudley, but I was wrong about the people in the photograph you showed yesterday. I don’t know them after all. _Non_ , no one is making me say this. I just realized that I don’t recognize them. I am _très_ sorry to have wasted your time. _Au Revoir_ , Monsieur.”

 

Rufio gave a snort of frustration. Obviously, someone had gotten to the girl. Probably her employer, Madame Loula. Well, at least he now knew for certain that Micheletto was indeed here on the island, and long enough to have established a network of “friends” to look out for his interests. Rufio had no doubt that the address Veronique had given him was correct. He would begin to evaluate the layout of the property, and to find other sources of information. Surely someone would be willing to talk for a reward.

 

“Madame Marinette, this is François, from the La Playa hotel. There has been a man poking around, asking about Monsieur and Madame Proulx. He has been in a number of bars and souvenir shops. He even visited the bank and the post office, passing out his card and asking for information. To the best of my knowledge, nobody has told him anything, but I can’t say for sure. He has promised a reward for details. He particularly is interested in where they live and if Madame is still in residence.”

_“I thank you for your telephone call, François. Jacques will pay you a visit to express Monsieur Proulx’s appreciation for your help.”_

 

Micheletto, lying upon his chaise on the back deck, looked up when Marinette brought him a tall glass of ginger beer.

“Monsieur Proulx,” she said softly. “May I speak with you while Madame is having her shower? What I have to say, you would probably rather not have her hear.”

“Yes, of course, Marinette. Please, sit down.”

“ _Merci_ , Monsieur. I will be brief. Several of my friends have told me about a man who has been going around town asking questions about you and Madame. They all describe the same person, an American, medium height, early middle-age, ordinary-looking.”

“Yes, that would be Rufio. What do your friends tell him?”

“So far as I know, only a foolish little girl from Madame’s beauty salon has said that she recognized you from the photo he showed her, and my husband Jacques persuaded her to change her mind and say that she was mistaken. No one else has told this Rufio anything, but he promises a substantial reward for information about you. I fear that eventually someone will talk.”

“You’re probably right, Marinette. Even if no one gives him information, he is devilishly clever and will figure out some way to find me.”

“Shall I ask Jacques to have a talk with Rufio?”

“Good God, no! Absolutely not. He is to have no direct contact. Rufio is a very, very dangerous man.”

“Jacques can take care of himself, Monsieur.”

“I would agree, but not in this case. Rufio may look like an ordinary man, but he is a monster. Please tell everyone not to confront him under any circumstance. Just observe and report. Nothing more. I am grateful for your help, Marinette, and that of your friends, and I want everyone to remain safe.”

“May I be frank, then, Monsieur, and suggest that you may wish to send Madame to a place of safety until things are sorted out?”

“I would do that, and send you and the staff away too, but she says that if Rufio were to come here and find the house empty, he would know that we were expecting him.”

“With the greatest respect, sir, I believe he is already aware of that.”

Micheletto sighed heavily.

“I think you’re right, Marinette. And I don’t know quite what to do about it.”

 

“’You’ll have to kill the man first, Rufio,’ Don Antonio had said. ‘Only then will you be able to take my granddaughter. But be prepared. He’s a formidable opponent.’”

“I am confident I can carry out this mission, Signore.”

“The child is innocent. She must not be hurt in any way.”

“I will return her to you completely unharmed. You may rely upon me.”

 

Rufio had marked the road to Micheletto’s house on a map of the island. At least that little girl from the beauty salon had given him the address before she clammed up. He planned to drive out that day and scout the house and surroundings and asked the valet to bring his rental car around.

“I am very sorry, Monsieur,” the valet said when he returned from the hotel garage. “Your car has a flat tire. I have called for a mechanic, who will get here as soon as possible. It seems he has a number of emergency repairs to make ahead of yours.”

Rufio cursed under his breath at the unexpected delay. What now? While he waited for his car to be serviced, he could walk about visiting the shops and other businesses where he had previously left his card, but it might arouse hostility if he were perceived by the townspeople to be overeager and pushy.

_‘Take a moment,’ Rufio thought. ‘Concentrate. Don’t let a minor annoyance knock me off my game. Adapt. The ability to adapt has always been one of my greatest assets. If I get to the house later than I planned, I’ll be able to see it in different light conditions, which may open up a new set of strategies. New opportunities. Yes, adapt.’_

‘He will be coming here to check things out,’ Micheletto thought. ‘He knows I won’t be leaving home, that I’ll be battening down the hatches. He knows he will have to kill me before he can get to Angelina. So I have to lure him away from the house, to keep her safe. The beach. I will meet him on the beach.’


	29. Arrivederci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a goodbye is bidden

“Monsieur Dudley, this is Veronique, from the beauty salon.”

Rufio straightened to attention at the voice on the phone.

“Mademoiselle Veronique. I am surprised to hear from you.”

“I don’t blame you, Monsieur. I have been difficult, and I am sorry. You were right before. Someone did threaten me if I spoke to you about Monsieur and Madame Proulx. I was afraid, so I lied to you about knowing them. But I _do_ know them. At least, I know Madame. She comes to the salon all the time. The address I gave you is correct.”

“Why have you changed your mind, Veronique? Why are you talking to me now?”

“It’s so unfair, Monsieur. Madame Loula, my employer, fired me. She called me a foolish little girl, and she fired me. Now I have no job, no way to support myself.”

“Who threatened you, _ma chérie_?”

“The husband of Madame Proulx’s maid. His name is Jacques, and he is a thug. He threatened to beat me up and throw acid in my face if I spoke to you. I am terrified of him, Monsieur. I was hoping if I helped you that you would protect me. Maybe even get me into the United States.”

“I believe I can make that happen, Veronique. We can help each other. How about we talk of Monsieur and Madame Proulx now, and when I have finished my business with them, we will discuss getting you a visa?”

After spending some thirty minutes on the phone with Veronique, taking notes on all she could tell him, Rufio hung up and shook his head with a smirk. Poor Veronique! She really was a foolish little girl.

So:

  * Madame Proulx came into the shop almost every week for beauty services. She was actually now overdue for a visit.
  * She had her hair dyed black, over her natural light brown.
  * Madame no longer frequented the shops and dance clubs that she had once enjoyed. She told her hairdresser that she preferred to stay at home with her husband.
  * Marinette did the grocery shopping and handled other necessities in town.
  * Veronique inferred that the Proulx home had internet computer service because Madame mentioned shopping for things online.



 

That Angelina had not come in for her weekly appointment was not surprising; she and Micheletto were well aware of Rufio’s presence on the island and were sticking close to home. Rufio would get his favorite hacker to work on their computer system, watching for such things as airline ticket purchases, or other actions which might indicate an attempt at escape.

He had already scouted out their house and determined the best ways to make his move. Things were falling into place.

 

A day passed by uneventfully.

 

Rufio’s phone display showed an incoming call.

“Monsieur Dudley!” Veronique’s voice was shaking with excitement. “I saw Madame Proulx on the street in town today, heading to the beauty shop. She did not know that I had been dismissed from my job there, so she spoke to me quite freely. I kept encouraging her to talk. Was that not clever of me, Monsieur? She said she was getting her hair dyed blonde because she wanted a whole new look. She and Monsieur are about to go on a long vacation this very night. But, Monsieur Dudley, I don’t think they are going on vacation at all. I think they are going to try to run away.”

“Indeed, Mademoiselle Veronique, you are very clever. Did Madame Proulx tell you how they were planning to leave?”

“ _Oui_ , she did. Sometime tonight, after dark, a yacht will be anchoring close to their beachfront and they will row out to it in a small dinghy which is sitting now on the sand. See, Monsieur Dudley? That is why I think they are not going on vacation, but are intending to run off. Because they are leaving in the dark.”

“Very astute, Veronique. Did she say what time the yacht would be arriving for them?”

“ _Non_ , Monsieur. Only that it would be after dark. Have I been helpful to you?”

“More than you know.”

“Then, Monsieur, may we talk about my reward? And my visa?”

“I am eager to discuss that with you, but first I must conclude my business. Then we can sit down at length and work out details. Be patient, _ma chérie._ It will not be long now.”

“ _Bien_ , Monsieur Dudley. I will wait to hear from you then.”

Rufio ended the call and felt a faint pang of regret. Such a sweet, naïve young girl, so eager to please. He hoped that Jacques would not be able to connect Veronique to him. It would be such a shame to have that pretty face destroyed by acid.

 

A crescent moon hung over the cove where the yacht would be anchoring. Micheletto prowled the beachfront restlessly, glancing back again and again towards the house where Angelina was in company with Marinette, packing a few suitcases with her essential items.

_Was this a good idea? Would it work? Would they ever really be free from the reach of Don Antonio’s vengeance?_

On the hill above the cove, Rufio lay on his stomach gazing through night-vision binoculars. There on the beach lay the rowboat that Veronique had described, covered with a canvas tarp.

Micheletto strode back and forth over the sand.

_He’s anxious, Rufio thought. Good. He’ll be distracted, off guard. There is almost no moonlight tonight. I see lights on in only one room of the house. There’s a fair expanse of beach leading down to the water, and no place to really conceal myself once I leave the shadow of the hills surrounding the cove, so I’ll have to be quick. Sneak up on him, make sure he doesn’t get a chance to yell for help. Once he’s dealt with, I can go inside and round up the girl. She’s just a wisp of a thing, so she won’t be able to put up much of a fight._

Micheletto stopped his nervous pacing and began to tug at the tarp that covered the rowboat, pulling it off and tossing it onto the sand.

Ah! The yacht must be expected soon. Rufio reached into his backpack lying next to him and pulled out a heavy plastic bag with a drawstring closure. No blood, the Don had insisted. So be it. He began to pick his stealthy way down the hill. As he neared the beach, he almost caught his breath. Could he be that lucky? Micheletto had sat down upon the sand, facing the cove, hands clasped between his knees, straining for a glimpse of the expected yacht. Anxious, preoccupied, unaware of anything except the dark horizon, he would be an easy kill. Just slip the bag over his head from behind and draw it tight.  It was really kind of sad. The great Micheletto come to such an inglorious end. Well, all things must pass, mustn’t they?

Moving silently and swiftly, plastic bag gripped in both hands, Rufio crept up on his target.

_Arrivederci, Maestro._


	30. Hubris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Rufio gets more than he bargained for, yet also exactly what he deserves

Grimly, efficiently, Rufio yanked the plastic bag over Micheletto’s head and pulled the drawstring tight.

At the exact moment that Micheletto pulled a stiletto from his boot and jabbed it behind him into Rufio’s femoral artery, a gunshot cracked and the front of the assassin's dark shirt erupted into a fountain of blood. He dropped, dead before he hit the sand.

Micheletto wrenched the plastic bag from his head and took a long breath, then watched, grinning, as Cesare jumped down from inside the dinghy and approached him, tucking his Glock 22 into the shoulder holster he wore.

“Looks like all those Saturday sessions you spent teaching me at the gun range paid off, Cousin,” he said with remarkable sang froid, looking down at Rufio’s body.

“Your aim was dead accurate,” Micheletto replied sardonically.

“I did this once before and puked like a dog, but tonight I feel great.”

The two men clasped hands and embraced.

“Micheletto!” Angelina’s voice from the veranda was a frantic cry.

“We’re all right, _Bambina._ It’s over _._ But don’t come down here. Let us clean up the mess first.”

“Is he…Is he…”

“Rufio will trouble us no more.”

In spite of Micheletto’s admonition, Angelina rushed down the beach to hurl herself into Micheletto’s arms, sobbing with relief. He gently pressed her face against his chest.

“Don’t look, my angel. It’s too terrible.”’

She wriggled free and flung her arms around Cesare.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

He kissed the top of her head, patting her back soothingly.

“I’d do anything for my _Cugino_ s. You know that.”

“You put your life in danger. You could have been killed. All your babies, without their father…”

“Now, now. Micheletto would not have let that happen.”

Marinette could be heard calling from the house.

“Monsieur! All is well?”

“Yes, Marinette. Please let Jacques know that everything went perfectly.”

“I will tell him. He will come by shortly to help.”

“Thank you. And please call Veronique and tell her that she played her part to perfection. Say how grateful I am to her.”

“She will be so pleased, Monsieur. She has wanted very much to make up for her blunder about the photograph. Madame Loula will be proud of her.”

 

Jacques entered the cove in a small motorboat that he anchored just offshore and, carrying a large tote filled with tools and other implements, waded through the surf to the beach. When Angelina had gone back to the house, Micheletto and Cesare wrapped Rufio’s body in a weighted casting fishing net that Jacques had brought, while he himself spread the canvas tarp out over the bottom of the dinghy, which he secured with rope to the motorboat. The three men lifted Rufio into the smaller craft and folded the canvas around him, covering him completely, and laid the tote beside him. They then got into the motorboat and Jacques started the engine, towing the dinghy out of the cove and into open water. When they had gone several miles out to sea, Jacques cut the motor and swam with Micheletto to the dinghy, clambering aboard and retrieving from the tote two battery-operated drills which they used to bore holes in the wooden hull. It immediately began to take on water. When it sank beneath the surface, Jacques and Micheletto swam back to the motorboat. Cesare took the satchel of tools from Jacques and hauled it aboard before pulling the two men into the boat.

Micheletto watched the dinghy disappear and sighed.

“He was good, you know. Really good. I trained him myself. It makes me sad.”

“He was complacent, Cousin,” Cesare replied. “He underestimated his teacher, thought he had surpassed you. That was his downfall.”

“A common failing among such men, Monsieur,” Jacques remarked dryly. “Hubris.”

“Let us share a drink together when we get back to shore,” Micheletto declared. “And toast to hubris.”

 

“I guess you could call this a post-mortem,” Cesare chuckled as he poured champagne into the tulip glasses Marinette had set out. “Or a wake.”

“I call it good riddance,” Angelina declared.

“Now, _Topolina_ ,” Micheletto admonished her. “He was a fine soldier. A toast to Rufio, a worthy opponent.” He raised his glass in acknowledgment.

“And to your cousin.” Jacques nodded to Cesare. “A cool head and a brave one.”

Cesare returned the salute. “To you, Jacques. As steady and courageous a man as ever trod the sand.”

“What now, Monsieur? What will you do now?” Marinette furrowed her brow.

“Seek another hiding place, now that this one is known. I want to live in peace, where my Angelina will be safe.”

“You really think that Uncle Tony will continue to send hit men even after you’ve dispatched Rufio? His very best? His Godzilla?” Cesare wondered.

“I think so. Don Antonio is an unforgiving man, and a patient one.”

“Then perhaps we must deal with him, Cousin.”

“No, Cesare. Remember the lesson of hubris. The Don is an old campaigner. He has remained at the head of his organization for many, many years, through his own brains and nerve. He deserves respect. I will try to make amends with him.”

“Do you think you can?”

“Honestly, no.”

“Then don’t,” Angelina exclaimed. “The hell with him. The hell with them all. As long as you and I are together, that’s all that matters. I’ll go anywhere you say. ”

“My little tiger.” Micheletto embraced her. “So fierce. Can you believe this beauty loves me?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Cesare observed. “You deserve it.”

 

Cesare’s return flight was uneventful, but felt like eternity to him. Lucrezia had burst into tears of relief when he called to let her know he was coming home.

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. Meantime, please let the kids know that my business trip was very successful. I wasn’t able to get presents for them, but I’ll make it up to them.”

“Just come home. That’s all they want.”

 

When his younger children saw Cesare striding down the long airport walkway to the luggage claim, they ran to him like baby ducklings, calling out “Daddy, Daddy, we missed you.” He dropped to one knee to gather them to him, and then stood to embrace Lucrezia and Roddy, who had hung back with his mother.

“Don’t cry, Baby,” Cesare whispered to his wife as he brushed away her tears. “I’m here.”

“No more, Darling. I know you had to do this, but no more. Please.”

“No more. I promise. I’ll never go away from you again.”

Roddy solemnly held out his hand to his father.

“Hi, Dad. Welcome home.”

Cesare gave a puzzled snort.

“What’s this? Are you too big now for a hug?”

Surprised and a bit disappointed, but respectful of the boy’s wishes, Cesare shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Kids, let’s go home now. But, on the way, how about we stop for some ice cream?”

A chorus of “Yay!” greeted his proposition. The smaller children threw their arms around Cesare’s legs.

“I take that as a yes vote,” he laughed, as he swooped down to pick up Michael, his youngest.

“Let go of Daddy’s legs or he won’t be able to walk,” Lucrezia admonished gently.

Like satellites orbiting around a planet, the Borgia children clung to their parents as they made their way out of the airport.

 

**_Item in the society column of the morning paper:_ **

_The ever-growing Cesare Borgia family was spotted at the airport to welcome their husband and father home from a business trip yesterday._

_“It sure is nice to know that I was missed so much. What a great welcome,” the stalwart paterfamilias exclaimed, obviously delighted by the reception. “I’m a lucky man to be so loved.”_

_The beautiful Mrs. Cesare brushed away tears of joy at the sight of her husband._

_“He’s promised me to never go away again, and I intend to hold him to that promise,” she declared._

_The couple was heard proposing to their youngsters an ice cream treat on the way home. What a heartwarming image this lovely young family made to all who saw them!_

Lucrezia was awakened by the sound of her youngest child’s crying. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, intending to go to him, when the bedroom door opened. Roddy entered, carrying a sniffling Michael, who clung to his elder brother.

“Mom, Mikey wants Dad.”

Roddy deposited his brother into the bed between their parents and turned to go back to his own room.

“No, Roddy,” Michael insisted. “You stay here too.”

The older boy demurred, provoking a fresh spate of tears from the toddler.

“Come on,” Cesare coaxed. “Just this once, for your little brother.”

He got out of bed and stood up, making room for Roddy, who hesitated a moment and then flung his arms around his father.

“Dad…” His voice was choked. “Dad…I…”

Tears welled up in Cesare’s eyes as he embraced his son tightly.

Lucrezia watched through teary eyes as her eldest boy climbed into bed and snuggled Mikey close to him. So like his father, with the same dark hair and rangy, long-limbed physique and fine, broad shoulders. The two brothers were getting settled between their parents when the bedroom door opened again and Chezza and Tina, hand-in-hand, came into the room. The little girl had inherited her grandmother Vickie’s lush mane of chestnut hair and her mother’s clear blue eyes, which were now opened wide and expectantly.

“Mommy,” she piped in her sweet baby voice, “I’m scared.”

“Of what, Honey?” Lucrezia held her arms out to the child. “Come here and tell me.”

Tina and Chezza crawled into their parents’ bed and curled up next to their siblings.

_Good thing we have a king-sized bed, Lucrezia thought to herself._

“Mommy,” Chezza declared. “Tina told me that she had a bad dream. She was lost and couldn’t find Daddy.”

Cesare reached over and took his daughter’s hand, helping her step over her brothers and onto his lap.

“Daddy’s right here, Sweetie. I’ll always be here.”

Pressing his cheek to Tina’s fragrant hair, Cesare allowed himself to fully recognize the magnitude of the risk he had taken in going to Micheletto’s aid.

The blood had drained from Lucrezia’s face when he told her what he intended to do.

“Must you?” she had stammered, knowing perfectly well what his answer would be.

“I have to, Baby. It’s for Micheletto. He’d do it for me.”

_‘But you’d never ask him to risk his life for you,’ she had wanted to scream. ‘He’s an assassin. You’re not. Don’t go. Your children need you. I need you.’_

“Then, of course, you must go,” she said simply.

She had to have been terrified, but she had not flinched, quietly assenting to him.

_My God, Lucrezia, how you must have felt!_

He gazed at her over the heads of their children, his eyes locking with hers. She lay, tenderly holding Michael in her arms, snuggled against her bosom, soothed into sleep.

Cesare reached out and laid his hand against her cheek. She turned her head to kiss his palm.

“Never again, Baby. I promise.”

Her smile was tremulous, heartbreaking.

“I love you, Lucrezia,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With gratitude to the Bear who is so cool as to be Polar, for getting me the hell out of terminal writer's block!


	31. Don Antonio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the bad birds come home to roost

“Don Antonio, it’s Arturo. I am calling to tell you that Don Rufio did not check in with me at the predetermined time. I’m concerned, because he planned to conclude his business last night and return by plane with the young lady today. I have heard nothing from him at all. I could find no airline bookings under any of the names he uses, either for him alone or for him and a companion.”

“How long has it been since you last spoke to him, Arturo?”

“Two days. He said that things were proceeding well and he would check in before he left for home. But I have heard nothing from him since. I have attempted to reach him by his mobile phone and at the hotel in which he was registered. His phone does not answer, and the hotel clerk told me that Don Rufio has not been seen since yesterday. I am worried, Don Antonio.”

“I am worried too. You know with whom he was to have dealings. Send an investigator to inquire after him. Someone good, someone discrete. Keep me informed.”

 

“Don Antonio.”

“Who is this?”

“Micheletto. You were no doubt expecting Rufio to be telephoning you.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open. His heart began to pound. “It cannot be.”

“It is. I am alive.”

“How?”

“Rufio suffered the fate you intended for me.”

Don Antonio remained silent for a long moment.

“You killed him?”

“I did.”

“So what now, _ragazzo mio_?”

“I want reconciliation between us, Don Antonio. I want to make peace with you.”

“Peace?” The Don began to bellow. “Peace! How dare you! You abandoned me and my organization. The men who looked to you to command them. You stole from me. Huge amounts of money. You abandoned your wife and child. You debauched my innocent granddaughter. I will never forgive you. I will never rest until you are dead.”

“But, Don Antonio, don’t you remember? You yourself told me to look to my happiness.”

Tony’s face flushed violently red and veins stood out in his neck like ropes.

“ _Succhiacazzi_! You twist my own words! I’ll kill you. I’ll piss on your grave…”

There was a thudding sound at the other end of the phone and then silence.

“Don Antonio. Don Antonio!”

After a long moment, Micheletto heard a shuffling that sounded like someone picking up the phone.

“Don Antonio,” he shouted. “Are you all right?”

“Papa? It’s Natalia. Is that really you?”

 _“Cucciola._ Yes, it’s me. Where is _Nonno_? What happened?”

“Oh, he fell over, Papa. I was standing outside his office listening to him. He was yelling into the phone at you and his face got really red and he fell over. He’s lying on the floor.”

“Good God! Go and get your mother, now, _Bambina_. Your grandfather needs help.”

“I don’t want to, Papa. He said he was going to kill you.”

“You have to call your mother, Natalia. _Nonno_ needs an ambulance.”  

“No. If he’s dead, then you can come home. I miss you, Papa.” Her voice was soft and calm.

“ _Bambina_ , listen to me. Is _Nonno_ breathing?”

“Sort of. But he doesn’t sound good.”

“Let me talk to your mother, now. Please.”

“I’ll get her when _Nonno_ stops breathing.”

“No, Natalia. Now! I beg you.”

“Come home, Papa. I want you to come home.”

Micheletto wiped his hand over his face. How could this be happening? His little Natalia…

“I want to be with you too, _Cucciola._ Let me talk to Mama, and then I will get right on a plane and come home to you. Please, Natalia. Call your mother.”

“Not yet.”

“If you don’t help your grandfather, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“I heard him say he’d never forgive you, Papa. But if he’s dead, it won’t matter, will it?”

“He didn’t mean it. He’s just upset with me. We have to help him now, and when he’s better, he and I will talk and work things out. I’ll come home and be with you. But right now you must get him medical attention. Natalia, please!”

“ _Nonno_ stopped breathing, Papa. Hold on. I’ll go get Mommy now.”

He heard the young girl coolly putting the phone down and then her footsteps retreating as she called out, “Mommy! Nonno fell over in his office.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Succhiacazzi -- cocksucker


	32. Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein certain matters are resolved

The Don’s funeral was grander than most society weddings, but received only a line or two of mention in the media. 

Micheletto chuckled.  To the very end, Don Antonio had kept to his own strict admonition to stay the fuck out of the newspapers.  He felt that it would be inappropriate for him to attend the funeral, but, horrified by Natalia’s cold-blooded behavior towards her grandfather, he did call Laura to confer with her about the girl.

“We need to talk about Natalia,” he began.

“Come home,” she said flatly.  “We need to talk about a lot of things.  Like a divorce, for instance.”

_“Cara mia…”_

 

“ _Topolina_ ,” Micheletto began, holding Angelina by both hands. “We need to return to the States.  Your mother and I need to talk about your sister.  She is very troubled and needs our help.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She is…troubled.”

Angelina frowned.

“So what else is new?  She always was, Micheletto, always a drama queen.  Always carrying on over nothing.  Mom can deal with her.”

“I am Natalia’s father.  She is my concern, too.”

Angelina moved in close to Micheletto and wound her arms around his neck.

“Don’t I concern you?  Don’t you care about me?”

“Of course I care about you.  Your happiness is always uppermost with me.”

“Then don’t go.  Stay here with me.”

“Are you saying you won’t return with me?  Don’t you want to see your mother and sister?  Don’t you care about them?”

“I do, but I know they’ll be fine.  Anyway, isn’t that why we came here, to get away from such things?  To put our worries behind us.”

“One can never walk away from one’s family, Angelina.”

“Isn’t that just exactly what we did?”

Micheletto drew in a sharp breath.

“Yes, you’re right.  That is indeed what we did.  All I thought of was being with you, and the only way I knew to bring that about was for us to leave town.  I didn’t even consider how anyone else might be affected by my actions, but now I know that Natalia has been very badly hurt by them.  She has become unbalanced.  I don’t even want to tell you what she did.”

“Then how can I understand your concerns?”

Micheletto bit his lip.

“You are right.  I should tell you.  On the day your _Nonno_ died, I was on the phone with him, and we argued, which seemed to cause him to have a stroke.  Natalia was there and she picked up the phone.  I begged her to get help for him, but she refused.  She thought that with Don Antonio gone, I could come home to her.  She let your _Nonno_ die right before her eyes.”

“Well, that’s messed up.”

“Natalia is sick, Angelina.  And your mother needs me there to help with her.”

Angelina gave an irritated sigh.

“Why do you let Mom manipulate you like that?  She doesn’t need you.  She’s always taken care of things herself.”

“Your mother doesn’t yet know what Natalia did.  I have only told her that we must talk about the child.  Whether or not you think she needs me, I want to be there with her.  Your sister is in a crisis.  Don’t you see how serious this is?”

“Well, fine.  Do as you like.  But don’t expect me to go with you.”

“I can’t believe you can be so cavalier about this.  Your sister…”

“My sister!  My sister!  What about me?  Haven’t I just been through a crisis myself?  Haven’t you and I together survived an assassination attempt?  Don’t you think I’ve been traumatized too?  Don’t I need you?”

“I am well aware of what you have gone through, and I would keep you close to me, to protect you and comfort you.  Come with me.  Stay by me.”

“Natalia is upset because we went off together.  Boo hoo.  So what are we supposed to do?  Move back in with her?  How do you propose to handle the sleeping arrangements, Micheletto?  How should you and I act towards each other?  Pretend to be father and daughter again?  Pretend I’m a virginal school girl?  I won’t do that.”

“I’m not asking you to.  But we should go back and at least talk with your mother about what to do.  Just talk, that’s all.”

“And say what?  There’s no getting back to what we were before.  We’ve come too far.  We’ve broken all the rules.  How do you think my mother is going to feel, seeing the two of us together?  Not only has her husband been sleeping with another woman, but that other woman is _her own daughter_.  Do you want to flaunt that right in front of her face?”

“No, of course not, but I…”

“Then please tell me why you think that our going back there will be anything but awful.  Disruptive.”

“I don’t know, _Topolina_.  But I feel that…”

“You feel that you have a guilty conscience.  Well, bully for you.  I don’t.  Go back, it you must.  But don’t expect me to go with you.”

“What will you do?”

“Stay here, of course.  I’m a big girl.”

 

Leaving Angelina under the protection of Marinette and Jacques, Micheletto got on a plane and flew home, his thoughts a whirlwind. 

_Home…_

How would Laura greet him?  Would she hate him, refuse to listen to him?  Not want to recognize that he cared about Natalia? 

She had spoken of a divorce.  He could not blame her for that, but to lose her…his beautiful wife…

 

Micheletto took an airport limousine to his downtown hotel and after checking in, he telephoned Laura, asking her to meet him in his room.  He paced anxiously, gazing out the window, at the familiar vista which he well remembered. 

_Home…_

What had he been thinking?  Had he been sleepwalking?  Had he gone mad? 

 

When he heard the knock, he jumped.  Taking a breath to steady himself, he opened the door to admit his wife.  Her beauty, he noted, was stunning.  So like Angelina’s, but with a richness and grace and softening of maturity and experience that rendered her captivating, fascinating.  He cleared his throat and offered her coffee from a service which he had ordered. 

“Please sit,” he said softly, setting a delicate porcelain cup on a low table in front of Laura and taking a chair across from her.  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.  I am sorry if my presence causes you pain, _cara mia_ , but out of love for our daughter, I had to come and see you.”

“Wasn’t it love for our other daughter that made you leave me in the first place?” Laura snapped.

Micheletto blushed.

“You must despise me.”

“Curiously, Michele, I don’t.  I think I’ll always love you, in spite of everything.”

“You make me feel ashamed.”

“Why?  Because you’re fucking a girl whom you raised as your own daughter?  A child who looked up to you as her father?”

“Laura, please…”

“All right, all right.  Enough.  We’re here to talk about Natalia.”

“Yes.  I was on the phone with Don Antonio when he had his fatal stroke.  He had been furious and was shouting at me. Natalia happened by his office and heard him.  She was there when he collapsed, and she picked up the phone he had dropped.  I tried to persuade her to get help for the Don, but she refused.  She sat and watched him die before she summoned you.”

Laura blanched.

“My God!  Why?”

“She believed that if her grandfather were dead, I could safely return home.”

“Michele, she’s had a very hard time of it since you went away with Angelina, but I never realized how troubled she’s become.  She actually let him die right in front of her?”

“I heard it all, Laura.  I begged her to go and get you, to get help, but she would not.  Only after he stopped breathing did she calmly go to you.”

“What kind of creature has she become?”  Laura began to weep.

Micheletto awkwardly reached out and took her hand.

 “She is an unhappy little girl, and I am the cause.  The father who deserted her.  I thought of none but myself when I abandoned you and Natalia.  I believed that since I had provided for you financially, all would be well.  I am so sorry.”

“Money fixes everything.” Laura gave a bitter snort. “Don Antonio taught you well, didn’t he?”

“He taught me wrongly.  I want to make amends to you and to Natalia.  To everyone.”

“Just how do you propose to do that?”

“I don’t know, _cara mia_.  I was hoping you could tell me what I should do.”

She barked a short laugh of disbelief.

“You want _me_ to tell you how to fix the disaster you made when you abandoned me.  Abandoned Natalia.  Chucked all your responsibilities and deserted the people who looked to you to lead them.  The Don is dead.  The organization is in shambles.  Natalia is unbalanced.  Do you want me to write you a script of things to say?  A check-off list of things to do? “

“I want to atone, Laura.  Make things right.”

“Okay, fine.  Say three ‘Our Fathers’ and three ‘Hail Marys’ and make a good Act of Contrition.”

“Laura!  Please!”

“What do you expect?  You want to come here and say a few words and leave with a nice warm sense that you’ve mended fences, that there are no hard feelings.  Michele, there _are_ hard feelings.  You and Angelina left a catastrophe which can’t be fixed.  There’s no getting back to what once was.  Frankly, you and your comfort and well-being aren’t uppermost in my mind right now.  Natalia is.”

“Maybe if I saw Natalia, if I could explain to her...”

“Explain what?  That your lust for Angelina got the better of you and you just had to skip out with her.  Oh, that will make Natalia feel so much better.”

A desperate thought knifed across Micheletto’s brain like a bolt of lightning.

“I will do anything for her.  She said she wants me to come home.  Do you think it would help if I did that?”

“What in God’s name are you suggesting?”

“You said you still love me.  Let me return to you.”

Before either of them realized what had happened, Laura slapped Micheletto across the face, hard.  The red imprint of her hand glowed lurid and harsh.

“How dare you!” she hissed.  “What would you do?  Move back in and sleep with Angelina under my own roof?  Or would you expect us to share you?”

“Laura, I…I am sorry.  I am so very sorry…”

“Well, is that what you want?”

“Yes.  No.  I don‘t know.  Laura, please…”

“You surely don’t expect that you could just come back and have Angelina put on a school uniform and be your daughter again.”

“No…”

“Do you no longer want her?  No longer love her?”

“I love her.  But I love you too.”

“Our marriage is over, Michele.  I’m well aware that I bear a great deal of the responsibility for its failure.  But from the beginning, we both acknowledged that it was a business deal and nothing more.  Was it such a hardship not to have a sexual relationship with me?  After all, I didn’t expect you to be celibate.  I told you to just be discreet.”

“What was difficult for me was the sense of a wide gulf between us.  I came to love you very much.  I would have liked a real marriage, not a polite partnership. ”

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t think you wanted it. “

Laura sighed, tears filling her eyes. 

“Oh, Michele, if only we had talked to each other.  How different things might have been.”

“I tried, Laura.  I swear to God.  I did all could to show you my approval and my appreciation of you.  Could you not tell my feelings?” 

“I thought you were playing your part, the role of the dutiful husband.  To make the Don happy.”

“I did play the role, at first.  But you are so beautiful, so intelligent.  Such a lady.  I grew to love you, but I said nothing because I thought you did not love me.”

Micheletto held his hands out, palms up, beseeching.

“C _ara mia_ , don’t divorce me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Is there another man?”

“No, but there could be someday.  Don’t I deserve to be happy?”  Laura’s chin began to quiver. “It’s so sad.  So many mistakes.  All that remains now is for me to pick up the pieces.  Tend to the daughter whose heart you broke so badly.”

“Natalia is my daughter too, Laura.  Allow me that much.  Acknowledge that you know I love her.”

“I do.  I do know that.  But I don’t know how to make this situation better, Michele.  I don’t see how we could possibly be a family again.  Nearly all the bonds which would tie us together are broken.  Between you and me.  Between me and Angelina.  Between Natalia and Angelina. “

Micheletto’s shoulders sagged and he began to cry.

“Could we not rebuild those bonds?  Could you not try to forgive me?”

“Forgive you?  I could forgive your infidelity.  But I cannot ever forget that you slept with my daughter.  How could you expect me to be a wife to you after that?  How could you expect Natalia to overlook that you slept with her sister?”

“I couldn’t.  You are right, of course.  What I have done is unforgiveable. “

“Michele, it’s not _what_ you’ve done, but with whom you’ve done it.  Do you understand that?”

Micheletto slid off his chair and onto his knees in front of Laura.  He laid his head in her lap. 

“Laura.  _Tesoro_.  Being here with you now, hearing you tell me you still love me…it gives me hope.”

Laura forced her hands to remain at her sides, even though she ached to stroke Michele’s hair.

“Hope for what?  You’re here with me now, so you say you want me.  When you go back to Angelina, you’ll want her.”

Micheletto raised his head to look into his wife’s eyes.

“I won’t.  I swear.  I love you.”

“Until you see her again.  See her youth and her beauty…”

“She has _your_ beauty.  She does not have your wisdom or your fine mind or your understanding.   Laura, I am a foolish old man.  I behaved like a foolish old man.  Have pity.”

“Are you saying that Angelina was just a fling for you?”

“No, but…”

“Michele, can you not see that there is just no good way out of this?  I can’t forgive you for sleeping with Angelina, but if you forsake her now, I’ll never forgive you for hurting her.  We just keep going around in circles.  It’s finished.  We are finished.”

“You said you still love me.”

Laura’s face crumpled and she began to sob.

“Yes, damn you!  I still love you.”

Micheletto grasped her hands in his, running his finger over the wedding and engagement rings which she still wore.

“My darling.  If Angelina no longer wanted me, would you let me return to you?”

Laura stiffened and drew back.

“Why would she do that?”

“She is young.  She will grow tired of me, dull old man that I am.”

“Michele, how many times do I have to say it before you hear it?  Even if Angelina left you, I would never be able to get past the fact that you were my daughter’s lover.  That is too much of a betrayal for me to forgive.  We are done talking about this.  Have you anything to say about Natalia?  If not, then I am leaving.”

“What do you think should be done for her?”

“A psychiatric evaluation to determine if she is a danger to herself or others.  Perhaps she may even need to be hospitalized.”

“Oh, my poor _bambina_!”

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

“May I see her?  Tell her I love her?”

“That will depend upon what her doctors say.  It may only upset her more to have you turn up and then go away again.”

“I won’t go away.  I’ll stay…”

“And Angelina.  What about her?”

“She wants to remain where she is.  She is stronger than Natalia.  She will cope.”

“You’re wrong, Michele.  She is different from her sister, but no stronger.  She feels and acts in different ways.  If you were to leave her alone, I fear what would happen to her.  Without you to guide her or restrain her, she will likely run wild.  Drugs.  Men.  Danger.  You cannot do that to her.”

Micheletto rocked back on his heels.

“Can it really be true that there is no solution?”

“None that I can see.  This is not some dance where you can just change partners at will.  Human beings are involved.  People with feelings.  You cannot just move us around as you see fit.  Angelina has been an independent woman, in charge of her own household.  She is not about to give that up and be a little girl again.  You have been her husband.  She will never be able to see you as her father again.  I know Natalia loves you and yearns for you to come back, but she is well aware that you have been intimate with her sister.  She is shocked and heartbroken by your behavior towards her and me and may not be able to get past it, no matter how much she loves you.”

“ _Cara mia_ , I have to try.  It’s all I can do.  Let me at least try.”

So stricken with grief and distress was Micheletto’s face that Laura instinctively reached out to caress his cheek.  He turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand. 

“I love you, Laura.  I wronged you so…”

She began to sob.

“Why did you leave me, Michele?”

“I was tired, _cara mia_.  So much responsibility.  So many demands.  The organization, Don Antonio.  I was lonely.  Angelina made me feel admired.  Appreciated.  I don’t want to hurt you by saying these things, Laura, but I must be honest.”

“I am told that the “appreciation” and “admiration” that a young lover offers can be powerful attractions.  As well as youth, beauty and perhaps an element of fantasy.  How I must have let you down!”

“You are not to blame, Laura.  I behaved like an old fool.  I am ashamed of myself, but I have returned to my senses.”

“So now you are ready to return and ‘settle’ for me?”

“Oh, my love!  Not ‘settle.’  I have always wanted you, but I thought you were unattainable.”

“So you ‘settled’ for Angelina?”

“Laura, please.  For the love of God!”

“I’m sorry, Michele.  I’m being difficult.  But I’m so scared.”

Micheletto stroked Laura’s silky hair.

“Of what, _Tesoro_?” 

“Of being hurt.”

“I will never hurt you again.  I swear it.  Let me return to you.  I will love you and be faithful to you for the rest of my life.”

“But what about Angelina?  She went to you because she loves you.”

“I will give her something she loves even more.”

 

“Micheletto!”

Angelina’s voice on the telephone was breathless.

“Micheletto!  You won’t believe it.  I was in town with Marinette and this tourist came up to me.  Just walked right up.  He had a bunch of cameras around his neck and he told me that he was a fashion photographer, a French Canadian living in Paris.  He had come to the Caribbean looking for new faces to ‘discover,’ and he discovered me.  Me!  He wants to take me to Paris with him.  He says he will make me the toast of the fashion world.”

“Who is this man, _Topolina_?  What do you know of him?”

“Well, I looked him up on the internet, of course, and he is exactly who he says.  His name is François Carpentier, and his work appears in the best fashion magazines and publications.  He says he’ll make me a supermodel, Micheletto.  A supermodel!”

“Hold on for just a moment, _Dolce_.  I will not allow you to just go off with a complete stranger, no matter what he promises you.  I must first make inquiries.”

Angelina sighed in exasperation. 

“There’s no time for that.  He wants to leave for Paris right away.  I can’t miss out on this opportunity because you’re acting like an overprotective old…”

“An old _what_ , Angelina?  An old father?”

“Well, yes.”

“I forbid you to go.”

“You can’t stop me.  I’m going.  François says I’m beautiful.  I’ll take Paris by storm.  Do you expect me to just hang around being your little plaything?”

“Has he seduced you, _Topolina_?  Have you slept with him?”

Angelina gasped.

“How dare you?”

“You did.  You slept with him.”

“Well, what do you expect?  I begged you not to leave me alone, and you did anyway.  You just went off and left me like I’m nothing.  François has big plans for me.  I’m going to be famous.”

“You said you’d love me forever.”

“Well, things didn’t work out, Micheletto.  Sorry.  You’ll be proud of me when you see me in _'Paris Vogue.’_ How’s Mom?  Maybe she’ll take you back, if you ask her.  If you act sad and forlorn, she’ll take pity on you.”

 

_“Monsieur Colbert.  What a pleasure to hear from you.”_

 “Madame Compagnon.  I am calling to thank you for your assistance in the matter of my stepdaughter.”

_“It was a pleasure.  I trust things went smoothly.”_

“Even now, she is on a plane to Paris with Monsieur Carpentier.  You are certain he will take care of her?”

_“I know him personally, Monsieur Colbert.  He is a man of solid character and wholesome appetites.”_

“I am glad to hear it.  He certainly gave extra effort to convince Angelina to go with him.”

_“Do you mean he…?”_

“Just so.  Angelina is young, naïve.  I will not have this Monsieur Carpentier seduce her and then break her heart.”

_“He will not, mon ami.  She is a beautiful girl.  I have every confidence that she will forge a successful modeling career.  Monsieur Carpentier is just the man to guide her.  If they enjoy a little interlude together, what is the harm?  He will protect her from the vampires who will flock to her with unholy intentions.”_

“You are sure of that?”

_“Certainment.  I would trust him with my own child.”_

“Once again, Madame, I am in your debt.  I am back in the United States, in the process of consolidating my former position with my organization and look forward to resuming our mutually beneficial relationship.”

_“Ah.  I am glad to hear it.  Does this mean that you have found some peace in your life?”_

“My wife has accepted me back into her arms.  My daughter Natalia is recovering her health.  My soldiers have renewed their pledges of loyalty to me.  I am a most fortunate man. “

_“Quelle joie!  Félicitations.”_


	33. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein our tale comes to a conclusion

Micheletto, standing on the doorstep, hesitated for a moment and drew a breath.  It had been so long since he had last entered this house.  A lifetime ago.  So much had changed, and yet it had seemed to come full circle.  He knocked on the door.

He heard the sound of running feet and then the door flung open and a small tornado hurled herself into his arms.

“Papa, Papa, you’ve come home!”

Natalia, laughing and crying, embraced him.

“Why did you knock on the door, Papa?  Why didn’t you just come inside?”

“I wanted to be sure I had permission to enter, _Cucciola._ ”

“What, like a vampire?  Papa, this is your home.  You don’t need to ask permission.”

“I have been away from you and your mother and wasn’t sure I would be welcome.”

“You’re very welcome, Michele,” Laura called gently, behind Natalia.  “Please, come in.”

Micheletto stepped across the threshold, smiling nervously.  He held his hand out to Laura, who came to him and lightly kissed his mouth.

“Where is your luggage?” she asked.

“I will have it brought round from the hotel, now that I know you will allow me to remain here.”

“I told you, Michele, that I wanted you to come home.  Did you doubt that?”

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous.  Perhaps you changed your mind.”

Laura smiled gently.

“I have not changed my mind.  And Natalia welcomes you home too, as you can see.”

“Do you, _Cucciola_?  Do you welcome me?”

“Yes, Papa, as long as you promise to never go away again.”

“I swear upon all that is holy that I will never leave you and your mother.  You are all I desire in the world.  All that gladdens my heart.”

He drew mother and daughter to him and hugged them tightly.

“I am so sorry for the pain I have caused you,” he whispered.

“We need not speak of it any longer,” Laura said softly.  “We are together again.”

“My Papa is home,” Natalia declared.  “That’s all I care about.”

 

“Where,” Micheletto murmured to Laura when his luggage arrived from the hotel, “do you want me to put my clothes?”

“In my bedroom, Michele.  Our bedroom.”

“ _Our_ bedroom?  Are you sure, _cara mia_?”

“Yes.  Absolutely.  Are we not to be husband and wife?”

“I want that with all my heart, Laura.  But only if you will permit it.  I am so contrite.”

“Michele.  We are both nervous.  But if you are paralyzed with guilt and I am immobilized by my hurt feelings, then we will never be able to bring down the wall between us.  I’m not sure how I will behave towards you.  I can’t promise that I won’t dissolve into tears.  But we have to try.”

“I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything you don’t want, _Tesoro_.”

“I want you, Michele.  I love you.”

Overwhelmed, Micheletto drew Laura into his embrace.

“My beautiful one,” he whispered. “I adore you.”

 

Eleven months after Micheletto returned permanently to the United States, his wife gave birth to a son whom they named Enzo.

 

“Natalia, it’s Angelina. calling from Paris.  How are you?”

“Fine, Sissy.  How are things with you?”

“Wonderful.  Just wonderful.  I’ve been busy doing runway modeling for a big fashion house and now François has been approached by a cosmetics company and an auto manufacturer who want me to be their spokesmodel.  Think of it, Nat!  I’m going to be even more rich and famous.”

“That’s fantastic, Sissy.  I’m happy for you.  So your manager is looking out for your interests?”

“He says I’m the most important thing in his life, and he’s very, very attentive.”

“That makes me feel good for you.  I’ll be sure to tell Mom and Papa.  They’ll be glad too.  Enzo is getting bigger every day.  I’ll send you some photos of him.  He’s so adorable.  By the way, Mom is expecting again.  It appears to be another boy.”

Angelina was silent for a moment. 

“ _Another_ baby?  Doesn’t that strike you as kind of…ewww?  I mean, having babies at their age?”

“They’re not that old.  You should see how close they are.  Don’t you want them to be happy?”

“I guess.  And I suppose I should know better than anyone how virile Micheletto still is.  Mom should thank me for reawakening that in him.”

Natalia bit the inside of her mouth and took a breath before replying.

“I’m very glad for you that your modeling career is doing so well, Sissy.  I’m working hard in school and getting good grades, and having fun helping with Enzo.  Papa is here with Mom and me, and the family counseling sessions that we go to are so helpful.  Recently we vacationed at Papa’s house in the Caribbean.  It’s a beautiful place, with a private beach and…”

“Yeah.  I know all about it.  How are Marinette and Jacques?”

“They’re fine.  Lovely people.  They took such good care of us.  We had an amazing time.”

“It sounds…nice, Nat.  Well, listen, I’d better go now.  François is taking me out.  There are supposed to be some hotshots from the modeling world at a popular disco tonight, so he wants me to see and be seen.”

“Enjoy your evening, Sissy.”

“I hope you manage to have some fun too.  Your life sounds…well, stable but kind of dull.”

“I have exactly what I want.”

 

On a sunny May morning, three generations of the Borgia family strolled the pathways of the municipal zoo.  The younger children, excited, wanted to run ahead to see the reindeer, but were restrained by their eldest brother. 

“Don’t be chasing around,” he barked at them.  “Stay close.”

“Roddy,” Chezza grumbled.  “You’re not the boss of us.  Shut up.”

“Listen to your brother,” Cesare admonished.  “He cares about you, and he’s right.  We need you to stay near to us.”

“Let’s go over to the kiosk there and get some carrots to feed the animals,” Rodrigo suggested.  The children eagerly clustered around their father and grandfather, laughing and shouting.

Vannozza and Lucrezia gratefully sat down on a bench.  Vannozza now walked with only a slight limp and had stopped having seizures for over a year now.  Lucrezia leaned her head on her mother-in-law’s shoulder affectionately.

“Look at them, Mom.  Aren’t they something?”

“The joy of my life, Sweetie.”

“Oh, Mom!  Feel this!  The baby is kicking!”

Vannozza laid her hand gently on Lucrezia’s prominent belly.

“She’s a lively one, isn’t she?  I’m thrilled that we’re having another little girl.”

A sweet-faced older woman walking by beamed a smile at Lucrezia.

“So many children,” she observed kindly. “Dear, are you Catholic?”

“What I am,” Lucrezia replied serenely, “is madly, hopelessly, in love with my husband.”


End file.
